// 


/*f4 


eaves? 


ttl«  -on  ...  . 


un  ruanciseo 


. .  >  .   .  . 
• .    . .  •  •  • 

..... 


I   OPYRIG  II  lion.     U>92, 
BY 

C.  A.  Murdoch  &  Co. 


•     t    .       It*. 


5  3* 


In  publishing  this  volume,  the  ladies  of  the 
Charming  Auxiliary  desire  to  express  their  appre- 
ciation of  the  courtesies  extended  by  Houghton, 
Mifflin  .t-  Co.  and  Roberts  Brothers,  from  whose 
publications  some  of  the  selections  have  been 
gU  aned. 


394857 


CONTENTS. 


A   NEW    YEAR, 


Horatio  SU  bbins, 


WHAT  SHALL   I    DO   WITH    LIFE? 

Charles  .  i.  Murdoch 

SELECTIONS Robert  Browning, 

[DEALS Thomas  Carlyle, 

GOING  UP  To  .IK  1:1  SALEM,  Phillips  Brooks   . 

1  HE    ELIXIR Oeorgi   Herbert    . 

VERSES    FROM  "TIIK    BUILDERS," 

//.  W.  Longft  How, 

HELPFUL  THOUGHTS,    .    .      Charles  <;.   Ames, 

1  111:   DIGNITY  OF  LABOR,      Thomas  8tarr  King, 

SPIRITUAL    LIFE Elizabeth  B.  Easton, 

VERSES  FROM  "THE  ETERNAL  GOODNES8," 

/"/in   (,.  Whitlier, 

LENTEN    MEDITATIONS,    .      {Selections),.    .    . 

a    PRAYER Theodori   Pa 

-  1  BR Horatio  8tebbins, 

RESURRECTION Horatio  Stebbins, 

1  HOUGHT8  ABOl  1   GOD,    .      Minot  J   Savage, 

WHERE   1-   GOD? Minot  J.  Savage, 

ORE  \  l     PRINCIPLES    \M>   BM  \M,    DUTIES 

hums     \l>i  1  Inn  u  u . 

wil  vi    DO    YOU    REALLY    RE\  ERE?     .... 
.hums    Wartineau, 


\\  II  \  1    1-    PRAYEH 


.hum  ■-    Ma  1  in- 


Page 

ID 

12 

1 1 
11; 
La 

20 

i\ 
11 
•J  1 
26 

28 

:;n 

■  VI 

:,\ 

86 

- 

19 

in 

III 
II 


WHY  ART  THOU  CA8T    DOWN,  MY   SOUL?     .    . 

L't  r.  Jacob  Voorsanger,  12 

THE  RHODORA Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  16 

HUMAN    PROGRESS Tohn  Fiske 16 

SELECTIONS George  8.  Merriam,     .  18 

TO  A   WATERFOW1 William  Cullen  Bryant,  -r>o 

aims Charles  .1.  Murdoch,  .  52 

THE  RUIN  OF  THE  WORLD,    Horatio  s/< /,/,;,,*,     .    .  54 

SELECTIONS   PROM  "ECCE   SPIRITUS,"  .    .    .    . 

E.  F.  Hayward,     .    .  50 

GOD  SEEN  IN  His  WOKKS,      Chas.  W.  Wendte,    .    .  58 

CRITIC   AND   POET,      .     .    .     \%%\%%  $%&*worth\  60 

OUR  OWN  POETRY l.  IP  Jackson,     .    .  62 

EXTRACTS, James   Hhxxi'II  Lmnll.  64 

STANZAS   TO    FREEDOM,    .       Jam,, B   Russell  Lowell,  (55 

IMITATION   OF  CHRIST,    .      Thomas d Kempis,   .    .  66 

LIFE Leslit   H'.  Sprague,  .    .  68 

COUNSEL   TO   AN    UNHAPPY    PERSON 

W.  R.  Alger 69 

REAL  GREATNESS,     .    .    .      Wm.  Ellery  Channing,  7i» 

THE    MIND   OF  CHRIST,     .       TflOS.  L.  Eliot,      ...  72 

DOING  AND  BEING.   .    .    .      /.'"//-A  Waldo  Emerson,  71 

THE   REVELATION    OF  THE  SPIRIT 

Frederic  Henry  Hedge,  76 

THE  fools  prayer,  .    .      Edward  Rowland  Sill,  78 

SELECTED  WORDS,     .    .    .      George  E Hot 80 

UNITY B.  F.   Mr  Daniel,       .     .  82 

UNBROKEN    LIVES,    .    .    .      Horatio  Stebbins,     .    -  84 

MODERN    PROGRESS,      .    .      John  Ruskin 86 


JESU8  THE  CARPENTER,       Mrs.  Edward   1. 


ASPIRATIONS (Selections) 

THE    FAITH    OF    ETHICS,  .  II.   |      ■,     \nett,      .     . 

WAITING W.  J.  Potter,   .    .    . 

OPPORTUNITY Roderick  Stebbins,  . 

CHEERFULNESS Charles  A.  Murdoch, 

FOR   THOD  ART  ALL,    .    .  Francis  /•'.  Ahhot,   . 

OUR    FAITH W.  C.  Gannett,     .    . 

PROM    AMIEL'S   JOURNAL,  ( Trans/a/!,.,,),  .    .     . 

THE  MINISTRY  OF  LABOR,  Wm.  Ellery  Channing. 

A   PRAYER Theodore  Parker,    . 

A  SIMl'I.K   FAITH v.  A.  Haskell,     .    . 

CHRISTMAS    HYMN,   .    .    .  Frederic  Henry  Hedge, 

EXPERIENCE Horatio  Stebbins,     . 

THE  GOOD  SATAN L  PI    Jackson,     .    . 


90 
92 
94 

96 
S.8 

1110 
Ki2 
Hit', 
108 
110 
112 
111 
116 
lis 


INDEX     OF     AUTHORS. 


Abbot,  Francis  E.,  p.  100. 
Alger,  William  K.,  p.  69. 
Ames,  Charles  G.,  p.  22. 
Ainiel,  |>.  106. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  p.  60. 
Brooks,  Phillips,  p,  is. 
Browning,  Robert,  p.  1 1. 
Bryant,  Win.  Cullen,  p.  50. 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  p.  L6. 
('banning,  William  Ellery, 
pp.  To,  108. 

Easton,  Elizabeth  B.,  p.  26. 
Eliot,  George,  pp.  80,  90. 
Eliot,  T.  L.,  p.  72. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  pp. 

45,  71. 

Flake,  John,  p.  16. 
Gannett,  W.  ('.,  pp.  92,  102. 
Haskell,  N.  A.,  p.  112. 
Hay  ward,  E.  F.,  p.  56. 
Hedge,  F.  H.,  pp.  76,  11  I. 
Herbert,  George,  p.  20. 
Jackson,  A.  W.,  pp.  62,  118. 


King,  Thomas  Starr,  p.  21. 
Liddell,  Mrs.  Edward,  p. 88. 
Longfellow,  n.  W„  i>.  21. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  pp.  01,  65. 
Martineau,  J.,  pp.  40,  11,  91. 
Me  Daniel,  1!.  F.,  p.  82. 
Merriam,  Geo.  8.,  p.  is. 

Murdock,  Charles  A.,  pp.  U, 
52,  98. 

Parker,    Theodore,    pp.    82, 
90,  110. 

Potter,  W.  J  ,  p.  94. 
Ruskin,  John,  p.  86. 
Savage,  M.  J.,  pp.  38,  .19. 
stebbins,  Horatio,  pp.  10,  34, 
36,  54,  84,  116. 

Stebbins,  Roderick,  p.  96. 
Bill,  E.  R.,  p.  78. 
Sprague,  Leslie  W.,  p.  68. 
Voorsanger,  Jacob,  p.  12. 
Wrndte,  C.  W.  p.  58. 
Whlttier,  John  G.,  p.  28. 
Wordsworth,  William,  p.  6Q. 


"In  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  BTREE1  OF  II,  ANT) 
<>N  EITHER  SIDE  OF  THE  RIVER,  was  THERE 
Mil.  TREE  OF  LIFE,  WHICH  MAUI-:  TWELVE 
MANNER  "i  PRUIT8,  wi>  YIELDED  HER  FRUIT 
EVERT?  MONTH!  nn  THE  LEAVES  <>F  THE  TR]  i 
WERE    FOR     Mil      SEALING    OF    THE    NATIONS." 

— Id  Delations,  \  xii  :  -. 


1  ■"    BPE]  D    1  III.    SI  \l>    OF    T fGHT 

<  ».\    TO    THEIR    SHINING    GOA]  S, — 

THE    -"\\  l.i:    -'  All  ERS    BRO  \l>    ills    SEED, 
THE    WHEAT    THOU    STREVl  'ST    BE    SOI  LB. 

Em  i  rson. 


A    NEW    YEAR. 

NOTHING  new  can  be  said  about  a  New 
Year.     It  is  the  time  to  take  account 

of  the  old.  repent  of  our  sins,  carry  mis- 
takes to  profit  and  loss,  and  transform  their 
crudeore  to  golden  wisdom  It  brings  little 
that  is  new  beside  itself,  and  we  only  ex- 
change the  irretrievable  pasl  for  the  hopeful 
future,  the  dead  certainty  for  the  living  un- 
certainty. We  learn  as  we  go  on,  how  little 
is  secure  until  it  is  past  and  concluded,  and 
that,  after  all  our  demonstrable  knowledge, 
exact  science,  and  accurate  time-tables,  there 
is  a  subtle  element,  swift  and  penetrating, 
or  mild,  slow  and  pervasive,  that  eludes  our 
calculations.  The  conquests  of  intelligence 
have  not  perceptibly  reduced  the  area  of  the 
unknown.  The  guides  of  life  are  not  demon- 
strations, but  opinions,  judgments,  probabil- 
ities and  faith.  New  contingencies  arise  with 
new  discoveries,  ;ind  every  new  fixed  fact 
has  a  group  of  new  *mfixed  circumstances. 
The  future  event  is  as  uncertain  to-day  as  it 
ever  was. 

The  only  certainty  is  principle  ;  as  new  as 
to-day,  and  as  old  as  the  universe.     On  this 
in 


all  change,  all  progress  centers.  The  eternal 
foundations  are  sentiments  :  Honor.  Shame, 
Patriotism,  Reverence,  Love  of  Beauty,  Jus- 
Goodness,  Conscience:  these  have  no 
times  or  seasons,  and  suffer  no  mutations  of 
uncertainty  or  doubt.  To  understand  this 
is  the  difference  between  Wisdom  and  Knowl- 
edge, between  <  lhange  and  Growth.  Steadied 
on  this,  change  passes  by  us,  giving  us  our 
dates,  while  we  ourselves  are  firm,  and  we 
use  change  while  change  does  not  use  us. 
The  Greek  port  bad  the  insight  of  inspired 
genius  when  be  said  : 

••  Disgraceful  ii  is  to  understand  Divinity  and  dog- 
matic truths, 
And  yet  be  ignorant  <>f  Justice." 

Horatio  Si  kbbi  \-. 


« 


n 


WHAT    SHALL    I    DO    WITH    LIFE? 

WHAT  more  important  question  can  any 
soul  ask?  Here  we  are  in  a  whirl- 
ing world,  tied  to  it  for  a  time  by  the  mys- 
terious something  we  call  life.  Whal  shall 
we  do?  How  shall  we  live?  We  arc  body 
and  soul.  We  have  strong  tendencies  to 
mere  animal  existence  —  comfort,  indul- 
gence, enjoyment ;  but  we  are  also  prompted 
to  a  higher  lift —  the  spiritual  —  wherein  we 
forego  self,  deny  the  body,  and  seek  good 
and  (  rod. 

What  does  our  Creator  desire  of  us?  — 
what  is  our  part  in  the  plan  and  purpose 
of  the  universe?  Clearly  not  to  suppress 
our  Letter  nature  and  smother  the  divine 
spark  in  striving  for  what  the  world  can 
give.  If  we  are  satisfied  with  its  prizes, 
we  sell  our  birthright,  we  forfeit  life's  op 
portunity,  we  suffer  boundless  loss,  and  die 
with  shriveled  souls.  Shall  we,  then,  give 
up  that  which  is  natural  and  sick  alone  the 
spiritual  ?  Shall  we  leave  the  world,  or, 
it'  we  stay,  count  it  common  and   unclean  ? 

Not    so.      All    things    are    made    for    man, 
that   by  them    and   through    them,  with  the 

12 


grace  of  God,  he  may  work  out  his  destiny 
and  be  fitted  for  higher  life.  They  are 
given  to  gratify,  but  not  to  satisfy.  Man's 
crowning  glory  is  that  he  is  too  greal  to 
in  any  of  the  gifts  of  life; — that  a  divine 
discontent  scuds  him  forth  seeking  ever 
higher  good  till  he  finds  his  home  in  the 
Eternal  <  lood. 

Man  is  on  earth  to  grow.  Life  is  Ins 
school,  and  he  may  learn  its  lesson  it*  he 
will.  Progress,  is  man's  distinction,  and 
sluggish  e, intent  cheats  him  of  it  ;  hence  the 
trials  and  failures  thai  keep  him  from  that 
which  is  virtue  in  the  ox  are  blessings. 

What,  then,  shall  we  do  with  life — 
bear  it  patiently  and  bravely?  Yes,  and 
more.  Take  it  up  gladly,  as  a  heritage; 
enjoy  it  rationally;  trust  God,  not  fearing 
to  use  whal  He  gives,  and  go  forward  with 
all  courage. 

1  f  we  live  t  ruly,  we  shall  counl  no  duty 
small  and  no  sacrifice  greal  ;  we  shall  love 
strongly,  aspire  unceasingly,  and  find  life's 
highesl  end  in  bt  ing. 

C'HARLKS    A.    Mi    KDOCK. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  ROBERT  BROWNIM,. 

TAKE  all  in  a  word:  the  truth  in  God's 
breasl 
Lies  trace  for  trace  upon  ours  impressed  : 
Though  he  is  so  brighl  and  we  s<>  dim, 
We  are  made  in  His  image  to  witness  Him. 

— Christmas  Eve. 

All  (hat  is,  at  all, 
Lasts  ever,  past  recall  ; 
Earth  changes,  but  thy  soul  and  G-od  stand 

sure  : 
What  entered  into  thee, 
Thai  was,  is.  and  shall  he  : 
Time's  wheel  runs  hack  or  stops  :   Potter  and 

clay  endure.  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra. 

I   know   thee,  who   hast    kept    my  path,  and 

made 
Light    t<a-   me    in    the   darkness,   tempering 

sorrow 
So  that  it  reached  me  like  a  solemn  joy  ; 
It  were  too  strange  that  1  should  doubt  thy 

love.  — Paracelsus. 

This  is  the  honor, —  that  no  thing  1  know, 

Feel  in-  « :eive,  hut  1  can  make  my  own 

1 1 


Somehow,  by  use  of  hand  or  head  or  heart  : 
This  is  the  glory, —  that  in  all  conceived, 
Or  felt  or  known,  1  recognize  a  mind 
Nut   mine   but   like  mine, —  for  the  double 

joy, — 
Making  all  things  for  me  and  rne  for  Him. 

— Prince  Hohenstiel. 

Tin-  year "-  at  the  spring 

And  day  "s  a!  the  morn  ; 
Morning's  at  seven  ; 
The  hillside  's  dew-pearled  ; 
The  lark  "s  on  the  wing ; 
Tlic  snail  's  on  the  thorn  ; 
God's  in  his  heaven  — 
All  '-  i  i'_'ht  with  the  world  ! 

— Pippa's  Sunt/. 

The  common  problem,  yours,  mine,  every 

one'-. 

Is — not  to  fancy  what  were  lair  in  life, 
Provided  it  could  !»• —  bu1  finding  firsl 
What  may  be,  then  find  liou  to  make  it  fair 

Up  to  our  means :  a  very  different  thingl 

******* 

My  business  is  ool  to  remake  myself 

I'.ut    make  the  absolute  besl  "f  \\  hat   <  ""1 

made. 

Jii  hop  Blovgra  m\   ,  [poloyy. 

i  ■ 


IDEALS. 

WHEN  your  idea]  world,  wherein  the 
whole  man  has  been  dimly  struggling 
and  inexpressibly  languishing  to  work,  be- 
come revealed  and  thrown  open;  and  you 
discover,  with  amazement  enough,  that  your 
••  America  is  here  or  nowhere,''  the  Situation 
thai  has  not  its  Duty,  its  ideal,  was  never 
yet  occupied  by  Man. 

Yes,  here,  in  this  poor  miserable,  ham- 
pered, despisable  Actual  wherein  thou  even 
now  standest,  here  or  nowhere  is  thy  Ideal  : 
work  it  out  therefrom  :.and  working  believe. 
live,  be  free. 

Fool!  the  Ideal  is  in  thyself,  the  impedi- 
ment, too,  is  in  thyself  :  thy  Condition  is  but 
the  stuff  thou  art  to  shape  that  same  Ideal 
out  of:  what  matters  whether  Such  stuff  be 
of  this  sort  or  that,  so  the  Form  thou  give  it 
be  heroic,  be  poetic  ? 

O  thou  that  pinest  in  the  imprisonment 
^f  the  Actual,  and  criest  bitterly  to  the  Gods 
for  a  kingdom  wherein  to  rule  ami  create, 
know  this  of  a  truth;  the  thing  thou  seek- 
est  is  already  with  thee  "  here  or  nowhere," 
couldst  thou  only  see  !  Hut  it  is  with  man's 
16 


Soul  as  it  is  with  Nature:  the  beginning  of 
Creation  is —  Light  !  Till  the  eye  have  vi- 
sion the  whole  members  are  in  bonds. 

.Most  true  is  it,  as  a  wise  man  teaches  us, 
that  "Doubt  of  any  sort  cannot  be  removed 
except  by  Action."  On  which  ground,  too, 
let  him  who  gropes  painfully  in  darkness  or 
uncertain  light,  lay  this  other  precept  well 
to  heart.  "Do  the  Duty  which  lies  nearest 
thee,  which  thou  knowest  to  be  a  Duty!" 
Thy  second  duty  will  already  have  become 
clearer.  Be  no  longer  a  <  Ihaos,  bul  a  World. 
Produce  !  Produce  !  Were  it  but  the  piti- 
fullest,  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a  Product. 
produce  it  in  God's  name  !  'T is  the  utmosl 
thou  hast  in  thee:  out  with  it.  then  Up,  Up  ! 
Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it 
with  thy  whole  might.  Work  while  it  is 
called  To-day,  for  the  Night  cometh  where- 
in no  man  can  work. 

THOM  \-  < '  \ki.yi.i:. 


i 


17 


GOING    UP    TO    JERUSALEM. 

EVERY  true  life  1ms  its  Jerusalem,  to 
which  it  is  always  going  up.  At  first, 
far  off  and  dimly  seen,  laying  but  light  hold 
upon  our  purpose  and  our  will,  then  gradu- 
ally taking  us  more  and  more  into  its  power, 
com  pel  ling  our  study,  directing  the  current 
of  our  thoughts,  arranging  our  friendships 
for  us,  deciding  for  us  what  powers  we  shall 
bring  into  use,  deciding  for  us  what  we  shall 
be!  So  every  live  man's  Jerusalem,  his 
-acred  city,  calls  to  him  from  the  hill-top, 
where  it  stands.  One  man's  Jerusalem  is 
his  profession  ;  another  man's  Jerusalem  is 
his  fortune;  another  man's  Jerusalem  is  his 
character;  another  man's  Jerusalem  is  his 
image  of  purified  society  and  a  worthy  hu- 
man life. 

There  is  nothing  which  comes  to  seem 
more  foolish  to  us,  1  think,  as  years  go  by, 
than  the  limitations  which  have  been  quietly 
set  to  the  moral  possibilities  of  man.  They 
are  placidly  and  perpetually  assumed.  "  You 
musl  not  expect  too  much  of  him,"  so  it  is 
said.  "You  must  remember  that  he  is  only 
a    man.   after  all."      "Only   a    man."      That 

i- 


sounds  to  me  as  if  one  said:     "You  may 

• 

launch  your  boat  and  sail  a  little  way.  but 
you  must  not  expecl  to  go  very  far.  It  is 
only  the  Atlantic  Ocean!"  Why,  man's 
moral  range  and  reach  is  practically  infi- 
nite: at  least  no  man  has  yet  begun  to  com- 
prehend where  its  limits  lie.  Man's  powers 
of  conquering  temptation,  of  despising  dan- 
ger, of  being  true  to  principle,  have  never 
been  even  indicated  save  in  Christ.  "Only 
a  man  ! "  t  hat  means  only  a  Sun  of  God  : 
and  who  can  say  whal  a  Son  of  God,  claim- 
ing bis  Father,  may  become  and  be  and  do  ? 

«  "i  up  to  Jerusalem,  expecting  all  thii 
that  are  written  concerning  you  to  be  ful- 
filled. 

Phillips  Brooks. 


• 


THE    ELIXIR. 

TEACH  me,  my  God  and  King, 
In  all  things  Thee  to  sit, 
And  what  I  do  in  anything 
To  do  it  as  for  Thee 

Not  rudely,  as  a  beast, 

To  run  into  an  action  ; 
But  still  to  make  Thee  prepossesl 

And  give  it  His  perfection. 

A  man  that  looks  on  glass. 

<  )n  it  may  stay  his  eve  ; 
Or,  if  he  pleases,  through  it  pass, 

And  then  the  heaven  espy. 

All  may  of  Thee  partake  ; 
Nothing  can  be  so  mean. 
Which  with  this  tincture  (for  Thy  sake) 

Will  not  grow  hright  and  clean. 

A  Servant  with  this  clause 

Makes  drudgery  divine ; 
Who  sweeps  a  room,  as  for  Thy  laws. 

Makes  that  and  th'  action  line. 

This  IS  t  lie  famous  stone 

That  turneth  all  to  gold  ; 
For  that  which  God  doth  touch  and  own 

Cannot  for  less  he  told. 

<  i  EORGE    I  I  ERBEKT. 


20 


VERSES    FROM    "THE    BUILDERS/' 

N(  >TII  [NG  useless  is.  or  Low  : 
Each  thing  in  its  place  is  best  ; 
And  wliai  seems  but  idle  show 
Strengthens  and  supports  the  rest. 

For  tin   structure  thai  we  rais< 
Time  i-  with  materials  filled  ; 

Our  to-days  and  yesterdays 

Are  the  blocks  with  which  we  build. 

Truly  shape  and  fashion  these  ; 

Leave  no  yawning  ga  ps  between  ; 
Think  not,  because  no  man  s< 

Such  tbiDgS  will  remain  unseen. 

In  the  older  days  of  art 

Builders  wrought  with  greatesl  care 
Each  minute  and  unseen  part  ; 

For  the  gods  see  everywhere. 

Let  as  do  our  work  as  well, 
Both  the  unseen  and  the  seen  ; 

Make  the  bouse,  where  <  rod  may  dw<  11. 
Beautiful,  entire,  and  clean. 

I  I.    \V.    LONOI  I  ei  "\\  . 


HELPFUL    THOUGHTS. 

NONE  of  us  can  live  well  by  an  occa- 
sional pood  resolution,  any  more  than 
a  seed  can  grow  into  a  healthy  plant  by 
being  used  as  a  common  plaything,  and 
only  now  and  then  put  into  the  earth  for 
a  minute  or  two.  Everything  depends  on 
storing  up  in  ourselves,  by  a  habit  of  well- 
doing, a  great  and  ever-increasing  hind  of 
moral  power  which  shall  he  available  to 
brace  lis  against  sudden  temptation,  to  help 
us  carry  out  better  purposes,  and  to  hold  us 
steady  ami  true  to  the  ideal. 

The  harvest  of  grains  and  fruits  is  not 
more  regular  or  abundant  than  the  yield  of 
human  affections,  sympathies,  fellowships; 
hut  here  also  there  are  differences  of  seasons 
and  of  soils.  We  must  improve  our  spirit- 
ual husbandry  ;  we  must  enrich  the  ground 
from  which  good  qualities  spring;  we  must 
expose  our  inmost  life  to  the  quickening  sun. 

Salvation  is  right  character;  right  char- 
acter is  salvation.  We  need  no  other,  as 
our  bodies  need  nothing  better  than  perfeel 

22 


health.  But  right  character — is  that  a  small 
matter  and  easily  gained?  Is  it  not  a  pro- 
duct  of  all  the  highest  and  thirst  forces  of 
the  universe — a  result  of  the  long,  steady 
working  together  of  the  Divine  Spirit  and 
the  human  spirit  ?  The  life-principles  must 
be  deeply  set  ;  there  must  be  the  "clean 
heart,"  and  the  "sound  mind":  there  musl 
be  an  all-mastering  love  of  good. ;  there 
musl  be  a  well-established  and  well-admin- 
red  inward  government,  not  dependent 
<m  human  opinions  or  customs.  The  right 
law  must  l>c  written  on  the  heart — all  one 
thing  with  the  life's  love.  Is  not  this  what 
Jesus  means  by  "the  Kingdom  of  God 
within   you  "  ? 

<  'll  \  RLES   <  •.    Am  ES. 


THE    DIGNITY    OF    LABOR. 

FOR  thousands  of  years  society  has  been 
struggling  against  ;i  prejudice  that  labor 
upon  matter,  except  in  the  most  refined  and 
artistic  ways,  is  degrading.  According  to 
the  highest  aristocratic  prejudices,  even  the 
sculptor's  and  the  professional  architect's 
employment  is  demeaning  in  comparison 
with  the  ineffable  honor  of  plenty  of  inher- 
ited money,  having  nothing  to  do,  and  doing 
it.  But  all  lower  methods  of  handling  mat- 
ter, working  it  into  useful  forms  and  putting 
ideas  into  it.  are  accounted  incompatible 
with  pretensions  to -position — utterly  under 
ban.  To  be  a  soldier,  an  orator,  a  poet. — to 
be  able  to  express  skill  and  genius  in  de- 
struction, or  thought,  power,  and  sentiment 
in  breath  and  words,  is  consistent  with  some 
claim  to  social  standing,  high  and  secure; 
but  to  express  conceptions  in  machinery 
that  create  wealth  and  happiness,  to  utter 
talent  and  genius  through  new  combinations 
of  matter  and  force,  puts  the  ungenteel 
stamp  upon  the  hrow  of  the  body  and  spirit. 
How  to  throw  hack  this  scorn  of  creative 
toil  ;  how  to  prove,  in  behalf  of  labor,  that 

24 


direct  dealing  with  matter  is  not  degrading, 
and  that  the  mechanical  departments  of 
work  and  service  are  of  worthy  rank,  and 
are  not  to  1"'  abased  before  haughty  inso- 
lence, and  arc  not  railed  upon  to  defend 
themselves,  either,  —  how  to  do  this  and 
make  the  protective  argument  felt  as  an 
impeachment  of  those  who  arraign  toil,  has 
ager  aim  of  those  whose  Fympathy 
with  tli-'  race  is  wid<  -t  and  most  penetrating. 

Bui    the  ign   answer  in    behalf  n\ 

labor  is  this  :  <  rod  is  the  great  artificer. 
The  mastery  of  the  earth  is  the  chief  com- 
mand and  trust  which  the  Almighty  has 
committed  to  mortals  hi 

It  is  this  command  which  ennobles  labor, 
and  places  the  mechanic  arts,  through  which 
al<- He  tlx-  mastery  <>f  the  earth  is  gained,  in 
their  central  position  as  expressions  of  hu- 
man power  and  symbols  of  human  duty. 


THOM  \»   Si  \  1:1:    Kim.. 


if 


SPIRITUAL    LIFE. 

WE  find  the  need  of  the  uplifting  influ- 
ence  of    Liberal    Christian    thought, 

especially    in    one   element — the   apathetic 
and   indifferent.     I  am  no  pessimist,  bu1    1 

cannot  shut  my  eyes  to  the  vast  sea  of  ma- 
terialism which  surges  up  around  me  at 
times.  1  am  constantly  brought  in  contact 
not  <»nly  with  a  class  of  women  to  whom 
the  weekly  matinee  is  as  much  a  neces- 
sity as  is  the  diani  to  the  toper,  not  only 
with  the  still  higher  class  whose  minds  are 
completely  absorbed  in  housekeeping  and 
social  visiting,  but  with  a  still  higher  and 
fully  as  large  a  class  of  women  whose  high- 
est concern  is  the  intellectual,  the  literary 
life;  keenly  alive  on  intellectual  subjects, 
reading  with  avidity  every  new  hook,  devot- 
ing themselves  to  literary  clubs  and  study 
classes,  they  seem  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  highest  spiritual  and  religious  themes  ; 
their  own  lives  are  good  and  pure,  and  they 
perhaps  discuss  moral  questions  as  abstrad 
propositions;  hut  no  sense  of  personal  re- 
sponsibility for  the  spiritual  advancement  of 
the  world  has  ever  yet   dawned  upon  them. 

26 


It  is  against  this  great  wall  of  indifference 
that  we  ought  to  place  ourselves  to-day. 

Let  us  cherish  positive  convictions  in  spir- 
itual things  :  let  us  by  every  possible  mean- 
persuade  other-  that  their  i-  a  vast  world 
of  spiritual  life  above  the  merely  intellectual, 
and  that  only  -,.  far  a-  the  intellectual  is 
pervaded  by  the  apirii  it  i-  of  real  value. 

Elizabeth   B.  Ea.si  ox. 
I   from  a  Rep 


« 


FROM   "THE    ETERNAL   GOODNESS." 

WHO  fathoms  the  Eternal  Thoughl  ? 
Who  talks  of  scheme  and  plan  ? 
The  Lord  is  God  !     He  needeth  not 
The  poor  device  of  man. 

More  than  your  schoolmen  teach,  within 

Myself,  alas  !   I  know  ; 
Too  dark  ye  cannot  paint  the  sin, 

Too  small  the  merit  show. 

1  see  the  wrong  thai  round  me  lies, 
1  feel  the  guihVwithin  ; 

1  hear,  with  groan  and  travail-cries. 
The  world  confess  its  sin. 

Yet,  in  the  maddening  maze  of  things, 
And  tossed  by  storm  and  Hood. 

To  one  fixed  stake  my  spirit  clings; 
I  know  that  <  rod  IS  good  ! 

The  wrong  that  pains  my  soul  below 

I  dare  not  throne  above : 
I  know  not  of  His  hate. —  I  know 

I  li-  goodness  and  His  love. 

28 


I  dimly  guess  from  blessings  known 

( >f  greater  out  of  sight, 
And,  with  the  chastened  Psalmist,  own 

Hi-  judgments,  too,  are  right. 

I  know  not  what  the  future  hath 

<  If  marvel  or  surprise, 
Assured  alone  that  life  and  death 

His  mercy  underlii  -. 

And  so,  beside  the  Silent  Sea 

I  wait  the  muffled  oar  ; 
No  harm  from  1 1  im  can  come  to  me 

On  ocean  or  on  sh<  >re. 

I  know  not  ulnae  His  islands  lift 
Their  fronded  palm-  in  air; 

I  only  know  I  cannot  drifl 
Beyond  1 1  is  love  and  care. 

And  Thou,  <  i  Lord  !  by  wl are  seen 

Thy  creatures  as  they  be, 

j\\>  me  if  too  close  I  lean 
M y  human  hear!  on  Thee  I 

John  <  •.  VVhittiku. 


• 


■ 


T 


LENTEN    MEDITATIONS. 

IIY  right  hand  hath  holder)  me  up,  and 
Thy  gentleness  hath  made  me  great. 
— Psalms  :  xviii,  35. 


For  Thon  lovest  all  the  things  thai  arc  and 
abhorrest  nothing  which  Thou  hast  made; 
for  never  wonldst  Thon  have  made  any 
thing,  it'  Thon  hadst  hated  it.  But  Thon 
sparest  all;  for  they  are  Thine.  ()  Lord, 
Thou  lover  of  souls. 

—  Wisdom  of  Solomon  :   xi,  24,  '2(>. 

I  will  strengthen  thee:  yea.  L  will  help 
thee;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee  with  the  righl 
hand  of  My  righteousness.  For  I  the  Lord 
thy  God   will  hold  thy  righl    hand,  saying 

unto  thee,  fear  not,   I   will   help  thee. 

—  Isaiah  :   xli,  10,   13. 

We  then  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the 
infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  not  to  please 
ourselves.  ■ — Romans:  xv,  1. 

Who  can  have  compassion  on  the  igno- 
rant, and  on  them  that  are  out  of  the  way  : 
for  that  he  himself  also  is  compassed  with 
infirmities.  — Hebrews:  v.  2. 


Judge  not,  and  ye  -hail  not  be  judged  ; 
condemn  not,  and  ye  shall  not  be  con- 
demned :  forgive,  and  ye  -hall  be  forgiven. 

—  Luke  :  vi.  .".7. 

The  wisdom  that  is  from  above  is  first 
pure,  then  peaceable,  Lr<  ■  n  1 1  <  • .  and  easy  to  be 
entreated,  full  of  mercy  and  '_r'""l  fruits. 

— Jam  s:  iii.  17. 

The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is' love,  joy,  peace, 
_   suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith, 
meekness,  temperance. 

—Galatians:  v.  22,  l>:;. 


$ 


Learn  to  measure  your  strength  by  your 
gent  1«  ness,  your  knowledge  by  your  patience 
with  the  ignorant,  your  faith  by  your  sym- 
pathy for  those  who  are  "oul  of  the  way." 
your  purity  by  your  tenderness  for  the  sinful 
ami  fallen.  It  i-  the  only  t«'-t  by  which,  in 
your  relations  with  others,  you  may  know 
whether  you  have  caught  something  of  His 
infinite  love  whose  gentleness  hath  made 
you  irreat.  — ('muni   l/- 


i 


A    PRAYER. 

[ii  was  tin'  habit  of  a  devoted  parishioner  of  Th lore 

Parker  to  take  dow  d  in  short-hand  his  memorable  prayers, 
so  tender  and  devout,  and  after  his  death  they  were  pub- 
lished in  a  little  volume  dedicated  to  bis  wife.  The  fol- 
lowing is  from  one  of  them  I 

OTHOU  Infinite  Power,  whom  men  call 
by  varying  names,  hut  whose  gran- 
deur and  whose  love  no  name  expresses  and 
no  words  can  tell;  0  Thou  Creative  Cause  of 
all,  Conserving  Providence  to  each,  we  flee 
unto  Thee,  and  would  seek  for  a  moment  to 
be  conscious  of  the  sunlight  of  Thy  presence, 
that  we  may  lift  up  our  souls  unto  Thee,  and 
fill  ourselves  with  exceeding  comfort  and 
surpassing  strength.  Father,  we  thank  Thee 
that  while  heaven  and  the  heaven  of  heav- 
ens cannot  contain  Thine  all-transcendent 
being,  yet  Thou  livest  and  movest  and 
workest  in  all  things  that  arc,  causing, 
guiding  and  blessing  all  and  each.  We 
thank  Thee  that  we  know  that  Thou  art 
our  Father  and  our  Mother,  and  tenderly 
watchesl  over  us  in  manifold  and  scent 
ways,  bringing  good  out  of  evil,  and  better 
thence  again,  leading  forward  Thy  child 
from  babyhood  to  manhood,  and  the  human 

32 


race  from  its  wild  estate  to  far  transcending 
nobleness  of  soul. 

Father,  within  our  soul  may  there  be  such 
an  earnesl  and  strong  love  of  the  qualities 
of  Thy  being  that  we  shall  keep  every  law 
which  Thou  has  writ  on  our  sense  or  in  our 
soul,  and  do  justly,  and  love  mercy,  and 
walk  manfully  with  Thee,  doing  our  duty 
with  nobleness  of  endeavor,  and  bearing 
such  cross  as  time  and  chance,  happening 
to  all,  may  lay  on  us.  So  may  Thv  king- 
dom  come,  and  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth 
as  it  is  in  heaven. 

Theodi >i:i:  Park  i:i:. 


¥ 


EASTER. 

THERE  is  much  said  about  the  essential 
things  in  Christianity — and  to  a  one- 
sided mind  it  seems  thai  now  this  and  now 
t Ii.it  contains  the  whole  idea,  purpose  and 
aim  of  Jesus.  Many  attempts  to  find  the 
characteristic  quality  of  our  religion  betray 
a  suspicion  that  it  would  be  a  discredit  to  it 
if  it  should  be  found  to  be  like  anything 
else.  I--  it  not  better  to  think  of  Jesus  and 
ITi>  truth,  as  the  purest  form  of  all  that  the 
greatest  and  best  have  thought,  all  that  the 
noblesl  and  loveliest  have  felt?  Chris- 
tianity as  it  exists  in  the  common  opinion 
and  life  of  Christendom  is,  doubtless,  a 
religion  :  but  as  it  was  in  the  mind,  heart 
and  life  of  Jesus,  it  is  Religion.  The  uni- 
versal and  human  quality  is  the  glory  of  it, 
and  that  which  raises  Jesus  above  the  level 
of  the  mere  teacher,  and  make-  Him  the 
practical  and  ideal  Deliverer  of  the  world. 
If  we  have  this  conception  of  Him  and  His 
truth,  we  shall  go  to  Him  for  the  impulse, 
and  power,  and  elevation  of  human  life, 
rather  than  to  trace  the  lines  of  a  religious 
system. 
i 


The  most  profound  and  authoritative  ac- 
count of  His  purpose  and  aim  is  in  His  own 
words:  "I  aro  conic  that  they  may  have 
life,  and  may  have  it  abundantly."  This  is 
Resurrection  :  an  enlarged  capacity  of  mora  I 
ami  spiritual  life;  as  it  i-  also  the  test  of 
any  genuine  likeness  to  Him.  This  test 
would  bisect  the  sects,  exclude  many  stout 
believers,  give  heretics  a  place  in  the  eternal 
kingdom,  and  make  Christianity  as  wide  as 
the  world.  Then  we  shall  be  able  to  recon- 
cile intellectual  difficulties,  by  acknowledg- 
ing tl neness  of  all   excellence  and   the 

oneness  of  the  religious  life.  It'  the  Resur- 
recl  ion  is  the  increase  of  spirit  mil  life  in 
us,  then  no  good  man  can  fall  out  of  the 
Christian  ranks,  inasmuch  as  the  Resur- 
rection and  t  he  life  are  iii   1  Mm. 

Horatio  Sti  bbins. 


« 


RESURRECTION. 

T1IK  life  of  the  soul  is  associated  with  the 
life  of  the  body.  Their  mutual  rela- 
tion and  dependence  are  well  recognized, 
though  not  fully  understood.  We  say,  as 
is  the  mind,  so  is  the  body  :  and  again,  as 
is  the  body,  s<>  is  the  mind.  In  this  gen- 
eral  way,  we  assume  in  our  common  thought 
and  speech  the  co-relation  of  our  material 
spiritual  natures. 

It  is  very  natural  that  from  tins  associa- 
tion and  mutual  dependence  of  body  and 
soul,  men,  having  no  other  experience  of 
the  soul's  being,  there  should  grow  up  an 
opinion  that  both  have  equally  a  future 
upon  another  theater.  Thus,  savage  tribes 
bury  weapon-  and  food  in  the  grave  thai 
the  hunter  or  warrior  may  be  well  equipped 
for  nobler  enterprise  of  chase  or  battle. 
The  questions  :  "  How  are  the  dead  raised  ? 
and  with  what  manner  of  body  do  they 
come?"  arise  in  the  difficulty  we  encoun- 
ter in  conceiving  the  soul's  detachment  from 
the  body.  It  is  uot  easy  for  men  to  discern 
or  believe  that  which  transcends  their  ex- 
perience. 


The  development  of  Christian  history,  in 
gracious  adaptation  to  human  weakness,  lias 
r ghized  the  resurrection  of  the  body- 
its  coming  forth  from  the  grave  to  join  its 
departed  ghost.  Thai  there  has  been,  and 
i-  now,  it  may  be,  such  a  doctrine  or  idea  of 
Resurrection  is  altogether  natural,  and  not 
strange. 

As  we  become  spiritually-minded,  we  re- 
gard the  body  as  the  instrument  and  ser- 
vant of  the  soul  :  or  more  nobly,  the  Temple 
of  God: — ami  Resurrection  as  the  growth 
and  development  of  the  spirit.  It  is  the 
process  of  spiritual  being  and  life  by  which 
we  rise  out  of  our  dead  past  into  a  living 
present,  and  the  soul  sloughs  its  old  ignor- 
ance and  -in-,  and  come-  forth  in  the  fresh- 
ness and  beauty  of  new  Lifeand  new  vision. 
It  -tand-  for  the  unfolding  of  our  spiritual 
nature,  the  coming  forth  of  our  better  affec- 
tions, the  bloom  of  pure  feeling,  and  the 
rising  up  of  righteous  will.  It  forever  has 
the  present  and  the  f  iture  for  it-  field,  and 
i-  the  pledge  of  Immortality  in  such  body 
.1-  God  -ha  1 1   provide.     The  Resurred  ion  i- 

not    ;in  outward  tact,  hut  an  inward  prOC 

Horatio  Si  kiwi  ns. 


394857 


THOUGHTS    ABOUT    GOD. 

FRIENDS,  let  us  think  of  God  as  life,  as 
spirit,  as  Friend,  as  Father,  as  the  Eter- 
nal Presence  that  we  cannot  escape,  who  be- 
sets us  behind  and  before,  who  lavs  His  hand 
upon  us,  who  is  nearer  to  as  than  our  heart's 
l»  at.  nearer  than  the  wish  that  rushes  out 
to  greet  Him,  nearer  than  the  hope  that 
reaches  up  its  hand  for  guidance  and  for 
help  the  Internal,  never  faraway  from  them 
that  seek  Him. 

With  life  a  school,  we  ourselves  finite 
children  learning  to  live  in  an  infinite  uni- 
verse, God  at  the  same  time  love  and  law, 
watching  over  us.  waiting  for  us,  bearing  us 
up  in  His  arms,  it  seems  to  me  utterly  rational 
for  us  not  only  to  believe  in  God,  but  to  trust 
in  Him  utterly. 

And  since  God,  the  invisible  life,  power, 
soul  of  all.  is  the  one  spring  and  source  of 
all,  since  all  that  is  grand  in  human  nature 
and  in  human  life,  since  all  that  is  sublime 
or  beautiful  in  nature,  since  these  are  only 
broken,  partial  expressions,  manifestations 
of  the  invisihh — in  worshiping  these  we 
are  worshiping  God.  We  are  on  the  lower 
- 


stairs,  perhaps  ;  but  it  is  a  stairway  by  which 
we  climb  through  darkness  to  God.  So  any 
soul  that  is  capable  of  falling  on  its  knees 
in  the  presenceof  anything  felt  to  1"'  greater, 
nobler,  better  than  itself  is  a  worshiper  of 
God,  and  has  within  itself  the  promise  and 
potency  of  eternal  advance. 

Minoi  J.  Savage. 


> 


WHERE    IS    GOD? 

tlir   fishes 


OI I  !    where    is    the    sea  '.' " 
cried. 


As    they    -warn     the    crystal     clearm  ss 
through  : 
"  We  've  heard  from  of  old  the  ocean's  tide, 
And  we  Long  to  look  on  the  waters  blue. 
The  wiseon<  —  peak  of  tin-  in  finite  sea  ; 
( >h  !   who  can  tell  us  if  such  there  I"-  '.' " 

The  lark  flew  up  in  the  morning  bright, 

And  sung  and  balanced  on  sunny  wings  ; 
And  t ii i-  was  its  3ong  :  "  I  see  the  light, 
I  look  o'er  a  \\  i  >rld  i  if  bea  ul  iful  thin) 
But,  flying  and  singing  everywhere, 
I  M  vain  I  have  Bea  rched  to  find  I  he  air." 

M  i  N"  i    .1.  s  \  \  \..  i  . 


SELECTIONS    FROM    MART1NEAU. 

Great     Principles     wn    Small    Duties. 

A  SOUL  occupied  with  great  ideas  besl 
performs  small  duties;  the  divinesl 
views  of  life  penetrate  most  clearly  into  the 
meanest  emergencies.  .  .  .  Nothing  less 
than  the  majesty  of  God,  and  the  powers  of 
the  world  to  come,  can  maintain  the  peace 
and  sanctity  of  our  homes,  the  order  and 
serenity  of  our  minds,  the  spirit  of  patience 
and  tender  mercy  in  our  hearts.  Then 
only  shall  we  wisely  economize  moments 
when  we  anticipate  for  ourselves  an  eter- 
nitv.  .  .  .  Then  will  even  the  meresl 
drudgery  of  duty  cease  to  humble  us.  when 
we  transfigure  it  by  the  glory  of  our  own 
spirit. 


What  Do  You  Really  Revere? 

Whoever  can  so  look  into  my  heart  as  to 
tell  whether  there  is  anything  which   I  revere, 

and  if  there  I.e.  what  thing  it  is;  he  may 
read  me  through  and  through,  and  there  is 
no   darkness   wherein    I    may  hide   myself. 

40 


This  is  the  master-key  to  the  whole  moral 
nature:  what  does  a  man  secretly  admire 
and  worship?  What  haunts  him  with  the 
deepest  wonder?  Whal  fills  him  with  most 
earnest  aspiration  ?  What  should  we  over- 
hear in  the  soliloquies  of  his  unguarded 
mind  ?  This  it  is  which,  in  the  truth  of 
things,  constitutes  his  religion;  this,  which 
determines  his  precise  place  in  the  scale  of 
spiritual  ranks  ;  this,  which  allies  him  to 
hell  or  heaven  :  this,  which  makes  him  the 
outcast  or  the  accepted  of  the  moral  senti- 
ment- of  the  Holiest. 


What  N  Prayer? 

Prayer  is  the  soul'-  act  in  laving  itself 
consciously  open  at  the  feet  of  God;  it  is 
the  gush  of  tenderness  with  which  the  spirit 
pours  forth  its  burning  emotions  of  venera- 
tion and  love  :  it  is  the  joy,  or  the  agony,  or 
I  he  shame  of  placing  the  mind,  as  it  is,  in 
contact  with  the  greal  parenl  mind,  that  its 

sins   may   become  clearer,  its   wants  i ■>■ 

craving,  thai  it-  life  may  he  quickened,  and 
-yinpit hie-  refreshed. 

JaMEH    M  \  i:  i  i  \  i    \i  . 


WHY  ART  THOU  CAST  DOWN,  MY  SOUL? 
[Seele  was  Betruebst  d/u  <li<-/i .'} 


Translates  and   Metrically   Arranged 
By  Rev.  Dr.  Jacob  Voors  vnger. 


WHY  art  thou  cast  down,  my  soul. 
Why  disquieted  in  me? 
Feel'st  thou  not  that  God  is  nigh, 

Healing  with  love  infinite  ? 
Lives  He  not  for  thee  on  high, 

God  who  loves  thee,  though  He  smite  ? 
Upward  gaze! 
Heaven  praise! 
Why  art  thou  cast  down,  my  soul  ? 
To  the  skies 
Turn  thine  eyes  ; 
All  thy  tears,  e'en  as  they  fall, 
Numbers  He  who  guideth  all. 

Why  art  thou  cast  down,  my  soul. 
Why  disquieted  in  me? 

Was  thy  head  in  sorrow  bending 

'Neath  the  dreaded  reaper's  blight. 
When  thy  loved  ones  were  descending 
In  the  darkness  of  death's  night  ? 
1  Live  no  fear! 
God  is  near! 


42 


I'll'   euIlSuk'd.    111V    SOUl,    ill    (  iod. 

Tears  take  flight, 

For  in  light 
Walk  thy  dead  on  Heaven's  shore. 
Blessed,  blessed,  evermore! 

Why  art  thou  cast  down,  my  soul. 
Why  disquieted  in  me  ? 

Ever  Bhall  thy  dead  he  living — 

From  the  darkness  of  the  tomb 
God,  thy  Father,  mcrcy-triviug, 
Takes  them  to  His  heavenly  home. 
Wilt  thou  trust 

<  oxl   tlic  .lust  ? 

Soul,  my  bouI,  be  strong  in  <iod. 
Yi<  Id  Him  gracel 
But  a  space 

And  thy  hopes  shall  be  fulfilled 
And  thy  heart's  pain  shall  be  -tilled. 

Why  art  thou  cast  ■  !•  <\\  n,  my  soul, 
Why  disquieted  in  me  ? 
Soon  thine  earthly  course  is  ended, 
And  by  sainted  throngs  attended, 
Bhall  be  blesl  and  Bhalt  be  free. 
\"t  a  prey 
To  decay! 
ul,  my  soul,  give  thanke  to  <  rod ' 

13 


1 1  is  faith,  sure, 

Shall  endure. 
Thank  Him  for  thy  pilgrim's  slaves, 
Thank  I  lim,  too,  for  death  and  graves. 

<  rod,  we  humbly  how  to  Thee  : 

Lord,  we  thank  Thee  with  our  tears. 
Saviour,  take  our  benediction 

When  Thou  giv'sl  and  takest,  too, 
For  in  joy  and  in  affliction 
Seeds  of  blessing  Thou  canst  strew. 
Not  for  scorn 
Are  we  born. 
Thou,  my  soul,  art  God's  imprint! 
Pure  and  fair, 
His  fore'er! 
Though  the  message  should  now  come. 
'Twould  be  God's,  to  take  thee  home. 


ii 


THE    RHODORA. 
Lines  on  being  asked,  Whence  is  the  flower? 

IN    May,   when  sea-winds  pierce  our  soli- 
tudes, 
I  found  the  fresh  rhodora  in  the  woods. 
Spreading   it-    leafless    blooms  in   a  damp 

nook, 
To  please  the  deserl  and  the  sluggish  brook: 
The  purple  petals  fallen  in  the  pool 
Made   the    black   waters  with  their  beauty 

gay  — 
Here  mighl  the  red-bird  come  his  plumes  t<> 

cool, 
And  court  the  flower  thai  cheapens  his  array. 
Rhodora  !  if  the  -.iLr'-  ask  thee  why 
This  charm  is  wasted  on  the  marsh  and  sky. 
Dear,  tell  them  thai  if  eyes  were  made  for 

seeing, 
Then  beauty  is  it-  own  excuse  for  being. 

Why  thou  ucit  there,  0  rival  of  the  rose ! 
I  never  thoughl  to  ask  ;   I  never  knew , 
Bui  iu  my  simple  ignorance  Bupp< »se 
The  selfsame  Power  thai   brougb.1  me  there 
broughl  you. 

I ;  \  i ni   Waldo  Kmekson. 


i  ■ 


HUMAN    PROGRESS. 

THE  virtues  of  forbearance  and  self-con- 
trol arc  still  in  a  very  rudimentary 
state,  and  of  mutual  helpfulness  there  is 
far  too  little  among  men. 

Nevertheless,  in  all  these  respects  sonic 
improvement  has  been  made,  along  with 
the  diminution  of  warfare,  and  by  the  time 
warfare  has  not  merely  ceased  from  the 
earth,  but  has  come  to  be  the  dimly  re- 
membered phantom  of  the  remote  past,  the 
development  of  the  sympathetic  side  of 
human  nature  will  doubtless  become  pro- 
digious. The  manifestation  of  selfish  and 
hateful  feelings  will  be  more  and  more  stern- 
ly repressed  by  public  opinion,  and  such  feel- 
ings will  become  weakened  by  disuse,  while 
the  sympathetic  feelings  will  increase  in 
strength  as  the  sphere  for  their  exercise  is 
enlarged.  And  thus  at  length  we  see  what 
human  progress  means.  It  means  throwing 
off  the  brute-inheritance, — gradually  throw- 
ing it  off  through  ages  of  struggle  that  are 
by  and  by  to  make  struggle  needless.  Man 
is  slowly  passing  from  a  primitive  social 
state,  in   which   he  was  little  better  than  a 

46 


brute,  toward  an  ultimate  social  state,  in 
which  his  character  shall  have  become  so 
transformed  thai  aothing  of  the  brute  can 
be  detected  in  it.  The  ape  and  the  tiger  in 
human  nature  will  become  extinct.  The- 
ology has  had  much  to  say  about  original 
sin.  This  original  sin  is  neither  more  oor 
-  than  the  brute  inheritance  which  every 
man  carries  with  him.  ami  the  process  of 
evolution  is  an  advance  toward  true  salva- 
tion. Fresh  value  is  thus  added  to  human 
life.  The  modern  prophet,  employing  the 
methods  of  science,  may  again  proclaim  thai 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at  band.  Work 
ye,  therefore,  early  and   late,  to  prepare  its 

eomii  - 

John    Fiske. 


SELECTIONS. 

THE  extension  of  our  own  personality  by 
sympathy  is  just  another  word  for  pro- 
gress, such  as  is  possible  to  us  in  this  world, 
such  as  we  hope  for  in  another  and  brighter 

sphere. 

Self-sacrifice  is  properly  the  choice  of  the 

highest,  ac< panied,  necessarily,  by  a  sac- 
rifice of  the  lower. 

There  is  no  liner  chemistry  than  thai  by 
which  the  element  of  suffering  is  so  com- 
pounded with  spiritual  forces  that  it  issues 
to  the  world  as  gentleness  and  strength. 

Enjoying    each    other's     good    is    heaven 

1m  ■gun. 

Love  is  of  no  value  without  a  larger  power 
of  living  in  the  experience  of  others.  Every 
effort  made  turns  into  pure  strength 

Every-day  life  must  be  lived  on  the  level 

of  cheerful  contentment. 

The  life  of  the  soul  is  the  love  that  we  give. 

48 


To  be  faithful  in  darkness — that  is  the 
supreme  test  to  which  the  human  spirit  is 
subjected. 

There  comes  a  time  when  neither  Hope 

nor  Fear  are  necessary  to  a  pious  man  :  hut 

he    loves    righteousness    for    righteousness' 

sake,  and  love  is  all  in  all.     It  is  not  joy 

at  escape  from  future  perdition  that  he  now 

-  :   it  is  a   present  rapture  of  piety,  and 

^nation,  and   Lov<  —  a  presenl   that   fill- 

eternity.     It  asks  nothing,  it  fears  nothing; 

it  l«»v<-~. .- 1 t i  1  it  has  no  petition  to  make.  God 

-  back   His  little  child  that  lias  no  W-.w, 

and  is  all  trust. 

Geo.  S.  M  erri  \  m. 


<  • 


TO    A    WATERFOWL. 

WHITHER,  midst  falling  dew, 
While  glow  (lie  heavens  with   the  last 
steps  of  day, 
Far,  through  their  rosy  depths,  dosl   thou 
pursue 
Thy  solitary  way  ? 

Vainly  the  fowler's  eye 

Might   mark  thy  distant   flight  to  do  thee 

wrong, 
As,  darkly  painted  on  the  crimson  sky. 
Thy  figure  tloats  along. 

Seek'st  thou  the  plashy  brink 

Of  weedy  lake,  or  marge  of  river  wide, 
Or  where  the  rocking  billows  rise  and  sink 
On  the  chafed  ocean  side  ? 

There  is  a  Power  whose  care 
Teaches  thy  way  along  that  pathless  coast, — 
The  desert  and  illimitable  air, — 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost. 

All  day  thy  wings  have  fanned, 
At  that  far  height,  the  cold,  thin  atmosphere, 
Yet  stoop  not,  weary,  to  the  welcome  land, 

Though  the  dark  night  is  near. 

50 


And  soon  that  toil  shall  end  ; 
Soon   shalt  thou  find  a  summer  home,  and 

rest, 
And  scream  among  thy  fellows:  reeds  shall 
bend, 
Soon,  o'er  thy  sheltered  nest. 

Thou 'rt  gone;  the  abyss  of  heaven 
Hath  swallowed  up  thy  form;  yet.  on  my 

heart 
1  >eeply  hath  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given, 

And  .-hall  not  soon  depart ; 

I  Ee  who,  from  zone  to  zone. 
Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  cer- 
tain flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone 

Will  lead  my  steps  aright. 

William  <ri.i.i:.\   Bryant. 


% 


AIMS. 

MUCH  of  the  failure  of  ordinary  life 
results  from  its  aimlessness.  Con- 
duct is  not  ordered  from  a  settled  central 
purpose,  but  is  determined  by  habits  winch 
are  carelessly  copied  or  have  grown  up  with- 
out thought  or  conscious  reason. 

A  steamship  seek  i  una  port  must  be  moved 
by  heart  of  lire  and  guided  by  determin- 
ing rudder,  or  its  voyage  fails.  Force  alone 
cannot  succeed  ;  purpose  alone  equally  fails. 
Likewise  a  life  must  have  inward  strength 
and  a  definite  aim,  or  no  port  is  reached. 

How  many  helpless  hulks  are  drifting  on 
life's  ocean, —  some  wrecked  and  dismantled, 
some  staunch  and  sound  save  as  to  rudder, 
some  lacking  only  fuel  for  the  furnace;  all 
aimlessly  filiating,  subjed  to  every  turn  of 
tide  or  gust  of  wind,  and  waiting  the  end 
on  a  shore  they  do  not  seek. 

Bui    the    voyage   of   life   is    successful    not 

from  the  speed  and  safety  with  which  the 
port  is  reached,  hut  from  what  the  soul  has 
gained  in  prosecuting  the  voyage.  A  fair 
wind  may  not  he  the  mosl  favorable.  Baf- 
fling circumstance  if  resisted  calls  forth 
52 


strength,  and  when  overcome  yields  char- 
acter, while  what  we  are  apt  to  call  good 
fortune  is  perilous  in  its  soft  indulgence. 
No  navigator  need  fear  a  head  wind,  how- 
ever stiff,  bu1  a  if  'i it  If  breeze  may  fade  into 
a  dead  calm,  and  helpless  drifting  follows. 
In  life's  voyage  no  storm  need  wreck  us,  no 
peril-  defeat  :  but  a  true  compass  we  must 
have,  and  our  sail-  must  be  set  to  catch  the 
breeze  of  heaven. 

Our  aim  need  not  he  any  direct  object  :  it 
were  betterthat  it  he  the  following  a  settled 
purpose  dimply  to  he  true  to  the  best  there 
is  in  us  —  to  do  and  he,  day  by  day,  the  I  est 
weknow.  Such  an  aim  tits  all.  God  knows 
no  rank,  and  an  honest  day's  work  at  the 
forge  or  in  the  kitchen  is  of  equal  value  in 
Hi-  eye  with  the  victory  of  soldier  or  saint. 

A  life  so  ordered  i-  above  disappointment 
or  defeat.  It  i-  calm  and  trustful,  and  finds 
a  content   and  joy  unknown  to  those  who 

i  rly  pursue  t  he  mirage  t  hat  seem-  m  ar 
by.  It  i-  in  harmony  with  the  universe,  and 
we  are  iiph>  |,|  ;, n<l  borne  on  by  t he  mighty 
Btream  that  Hows  from  the  Bource  of  all 
power  and  goodness.  We  are  at  one  with 
God,  for  we  are  doing  Hi-  will. 

C'HAKLKfl     \ .    Mi   RDO(  K. 


THE    RUIN    OF   THE   WORLD. 

•  Yrt  I  doubt  not  through  the  ages  one  increas- 
ing purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  by  the 
process  of  the  suns." 

THE  idea  of  a  primeval  world  of  moral 
perfection  and  beauty  seems  fantastic  : 
and  the  notion  that  all  human  progress  is 
hut  the  recovery  of  a  lost  glory,  turns  the 
world  the  wrong  way,  bankrupts  the  Al- 
mighty Maker,  and  makes  all  His  wisdom 
to  consist  in  improving  on  His  mistakes, 
and  His  love  a  sorrowful  pity  rather  than  a 
divine  passion  of  sympathizing  strength 
and  tender,  helpful  joy. 

The  apparent  confusion,  disorder  and  ruin 
of  the  world,  when  compared  with  an  ideal 
perfection,  are  the  ruin,  disorder  and  con- 
fusion of  preparation  to  build, — not  the 
broken  pile  of  a  fallen  temple,  over  which 
once  stretched  the  canopy  of  heaven,  and 
through  whose  windows  gleamed  the  glory 
of  the  sun.  "The  hand  that  rounded  Pe- 
ter's dome,"  worked  out  the  plan  through 
disorder  and  confusion  to  beauty  and  power  : 
it  was  no  rebuilding  of  a  fallen  fabric. 

..i 


Go  down  to  the  verge  of  the  sea  where 
hum)  are  building  ships.  What  havoc  and 
waste  and  humiliation  of  proud  trees  from 
the  forest !  But  this  is  no  catastrophe  of  a 
misconceived  plan,  neither  an  accident  to  a 
well- conceived  plan.  There  runs  through  it 
all  a  purpose,  an  idea  to  be  realized  in  that 
perfect  form  that  woos  the  winds,  or  with 
heart  of  fire  cleaves  the  dark  sea. 

The  world  is  in  the  making,  and  its  ruins 
and  disappointments  and  defeats  are  not  a 
relapse  from  a  former  glory,  but  a  part  of 
1  hat  "  process  of  the  suns  "which  is  a  method 
Mt'  Almighty  wisdom  and  love.  This  fronts 
us  with  ( !od,  our  ideal  is  before  us,  and  des- 
tiny  is  a  glory  to  be  won  in  the  future,  and 
not  .1  lost  paradise  to  be  retrieved  from  the 
p  ist. 

1  [ORATIO   STEBBINS. 


3 


SELECTIONS  FROM   "ECCE   SPIRITUS." 

PROVIDENCE  isa  seeing  before  :  a  fore- 
sight, not  an  afterthought;  an  anticipa- 
tion, not  an  intervention. 

Experience  is  the  greatest  of  all  proofs, 
and  yet.  it  is  about  the  only  thing  that  can- 
not be  demonstrated  toothers. 

Spirituality  is  an  attitude,  an  aim,  an  at- 
mosphere, a  dominance  of  sphere.  It  is 
practical  Judgment  Day  already  come,  de- 
ciding beyond  recall  the  position  we  hold  in 
the  heavenly  scale. 

Spirituality  is  the  only  thing  you  cannot 

teach. 

The  natural  man  is  the  spiritual  man. 
The  unspiritual  is  the  only  unnatural,  the 
only  lawless,  the  only  erratic  one.  There  is 
no  distinction  between  nature  and  grace. 
Nature  is  grace.  It  will  save  the  unnatural 
and  the  sinful  with  the  very  health  and 
healing  that  resides  in  God's  sweet,  pure 
laws. 

Christianity  in  the  hands  of  Jesus  becomes 
in    the  main    an    individual    oneness    with 


.,.; 


God,  so    irresistibly  full    and  inspiring   as 
to  constitute  ii-  chief  leverage  for  moving 


men. 


We  call  the  vehicle  of  our  higher  con- 
verse prayer,  and  it  is  well  thai  we  do;  but 
the  vast  significance  of  the  word  is  not  vet 
understood.  How  simple  the  test  of  God, 
and  how  delicate  Ihe  power  of  infinite  un- 
derstanding, Jesus,  that  much-worshiping, 
but   yet  silent,  nature  illustrated!      His  life 

■  a  prayer  ;  bu1  how  scanty  ami  brief 
tli>'  petition-!  How  conscious  the  nearness 
and  reliance,  how  certain  the  peace! 

W  hat  men  have  known  of  God  is  not  in 
the  hook-,  but  in  the  Foul.  What  J<  bus 
knew  of  God  is  not  in  the  gospel  statement. 
ii"f  did  lie  ever  intend  that  it  should  he. 
It  was  in  Him  :  and  we  see  it.  feel  it,  know 
it  wherever  and  whenever  we  meet  Him. 

1  [e  was  able  to  proclaim  the  living  Fa- 
therhood by  reason  of  the  living  Sonship 
in  Himself,  which  it  was  His  object  to 
develop  oul  of  the  universal  human  possi- 
hility. 

I'].    I'.    I  I  \  \  u   \  i;  h. 


GOD   SEEN    IN    HIS   WORKS. 

ONE  of  the  first  impressions  which  an 
observation  of  the  course  of  nature 
makes  upon  the  thinking  mind  is  its  mar- 
velous and  perfect  order,  an  order  which 
includes  all,  ascends  by  regular  gradations 
from  the  least  to  the  greatest,  and  is  so  ar- 
ranged that  each  and  all  may  come  to  the 
consummation  of  their  being.  It  is  this 
recognition  of  a  universal  order  which  con- 
stitutes the  incentive  and  charm  of  the  sci- 
entific study  of  nature.  The  mere  desire 
to  know  more  about  nature,  would  not  have 
sufficed  to  produce  the  great  scientific  move- 
ment which  has  characterized  the  last  three 
centuries.  Hut  when  the  investigators  came 
to  see  that  the  facts  of  substance  and  the 
processes  of  nature  were  unified  by  an  ill  1- 
pervading  law;  that  one  thought,  one  order, 
one  harmony  prevailed  through  all,  then 
arose  the  eras  of  a  Copernicus,  a  Newton,  a 
Humboldt,  and  a  Darwin,  who  approached 
t  he  problems  of  the  universe  with  a  new  con- 
ception of  their  nature  and  interdependence. 
They  applied  themselves  with  equal  devo- 
tion   to  the  smallest    and    least,  of  created 

53 


tilings  as  to  the  1 1 i ir  1 1  *  - 1 ,  sublimest  pheno- 
mena of  nature,  recognizing  that  all  alike — 
tin-  pebble  lying  on  the  beach  and  the  planet 
that  swings  in  mid-heaven,  the  wind-flower 
in  the  crannied  wall  and  the  snow-peaks  of 
Hermon,  the  minutest  of  infusoria  and  the 
'■  Lord  Christ's  heart" — are  an  integral  part 
of  the  world  order,  a  necessary  Hide  in  the 
chain  of  being  thai  stretches  from  atom  to 
angel,  an  eloquent  witness  to  the  unity  of 
life,  thought  and  purpose  which  pervades 
the  creation. 

What  name  shall  we  give  this  world  spirit 
which  pervade.-,  unities  and  quickens  all, 
and  in  forming  the  Lowesl  orders  of  life 
on  this    planet    already  had    in  full  view  the 

highest  and  most  perfeel  types  of  being  ? 
We  have  no  better  name  for  it  than  our 
fathers'.  It  is  God,  whose  goodness  is  over 
all    His  work-.     No  other  explanation  can 

we  offer  of  the  cause  and    constitute f 

things  than  to  ascribe  the  life,  order,  beauty 
and  harmony  of  the  universe  to  a  Bupreme, 
self-conscious  and  creative  source,  the  Great 

Being  of  whom,  through  wh ami  to  whom 

are  all  things.    The  <  Ireation  is  i  hue  an  eter 
mil  and  in  iji  -tie  revelation  of  <  rod. 

I'll  \-.  W.  W  l   \  h  l  E. 


CRITIC    AND    POET. 

<  >ne  harvest  from  thy  field 
Homeward  brought  the  oxen  strong; 

A  second  crop  I  nine  acres  yield, 
Which  I  gather  in  a  song.     Emerson. 

THE  grand  power  of  poetry  is  its  inter- 
pretative power :  by  which  I  mean  nol 
;i  power  of  drawing  out  in  black  and  white 
an  explanation  of  the  mystery  "I'  the  uni- 
verse, In  it  the  power  of  so  dealing  with  things 
as  to  awaken  in  us  a  wonderfully  lull,  new. 
and  intimate  sense  of  them  and  of  our  re- 
lations with  them.  When  this  sense  is 
awakened  in  lib,  as  to  objects  without  us. 
we  feel  ourselves  to  be  in  contact  with  the 
essential  nature  of  those  objects;  to  be  no 
longer  bewildered  and  oppressed  by  them, 
bul  to  have  their  secret  and  to  be  in  harmony 
with  them  ;  and  this  feeling  calms  and  sat- 
isfies u>  as  no  other  can.  Poetry,  indeed, 
interprets  in  another  way  besides  this  ;  hut 
one  of  it~  t  wo  ways  of  interpreting,  of  exer- 
cising it>  highest  power,  is  by  awaking  this 
sense  in  us.  The  interpretations  of  science 
do  not  give  us  this  intimate  sense  of  objects 
a~  the  interpretations  of  poetry  give  it:  it 
i-  Shakspeare,  with  his 
no 


"  daffodils 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  \\  imls  of  March  a\- i t li  beauty," 

and  Keats,  with  his 

••  moving  waters  at  their  priest-like  task 
Of  cold  ablution  round  Earth's  human  shores." 


Ma  nil  EW   A  RNOLD. 


$ 


For  I  have  learned 
T< i  rely  on  Nature  ;  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of   thoughtless  youth,   but    hearing  often- 
times 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity, 
Xor   harsh    nor  grating,  though    of  ample 

power 
To  chasten  and  subdue.     And  I  have  fell 
A  presence  thai  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 

<  >f  elevated  thoughts  :  a  sense  sublime 

<  >f  something  t'ar  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  li'-rlit  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean  a  nd  t  he  1  i  ving  a  ir, 
And  t  he  blue  sky,  and  in  1  he  mind  of  man  ; 
A  motive  and  a  spirit  t hal  impels 

All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things. 

SVollDHW  ni:  i  ii. 
61 


OUR    OWN    POETRY. 

TAXING  humanity  in  the  large,  he  is  our 
best  poel  who  opens  our  eyes  t<>  see  our 
own  poetry.     Poetry,  the  poetic,  we  are  con- 
stantly seeking  afar.     To  our  imagination 
it  is  a  glamour  over  the  hamlet  of  the  Swise  ; 
it    floats  above  the  gondolas  of  Venice:   it 
clothes  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  ;  it  ripples  in 
the  currents  of  the  Arno  ;  it  glows  in  the 
Alpine  sunrise ;  al  Naples  it  sparkles  on  the 
wave.     Strange    fact,    however,    that    those 
dwelling  in  these  favored  spots  do  not  feel 
its  trances.     The   home   in   Bethany  is  an 
idyllic  picture ;  1  fear  the  inmates  did  not 
always   appreciate   the    idyl.      I   doubt  of 
Mary's  constancy  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  ;  Mar- 
tha,  cumbered    and    worried,    I   doubt  no1 
sometimes  scolded,  and  that  Lazarus  gave 
her  reason.     And    he,  good   brother  in  the 
main,  after   hard    work    may  have  sat  down 
to  dinners  that  did  not  suit  him.  and  grum- 
bled in  plain  Hebrew  over  them.  Thebeauty 
you  sec  hovering  over  them,  in  the  work  and 
worry  of  life,  they  lost,  or  perhaps  were  look- 
ing afar  to  find.      The   gay  pictures  of  lords 
and   Ladies,  the  tales  of    knightly  tourna- 

62 


mentj  the  deeds  of  chivalry,  to  our  eyes  are 
overhung  with  glamour,  too.  But  those 
Lords  and  Indies  experienced  no  end  of  <  n- 
nui.  Those  tournaments  were  often  scenes 
of  brutal  Bghting  or  its  vulgar  pantomime. 
Very  uncomely  things  look  comely,  and 
even  beautiful,  at  a  distance.  A  buzzard 
-niliiiLr  in  the  air  is  fair  to  look  upon  ;  but, 
say  what  you  will,  it  is  only  a  buzzard. 

<  >ur  poetry  is  not  far,  but  near.  <  >nr  lives. 
Mr.  Emerson  tells  us,  "nre  embosomed  in 
beauty."  There  is  sunshine  on  our  hills: 
the  gleam  is  on  our  sea  :  flowers  fair  as  ever 
Eden  bore  are  in  our  valleys.  Our  wives 
are  beautiful ;  our  sons  are  brave  ;our  daugh- 
-  lively  :  mothers  look  with  wonder  upon 
therapl  earnestness  in  the  faces  of  Raphael's 
cherubs,  and  were  quite  astounded  were  I  hey 
told  thai  it  mighl  have  been  copied  from  the 

!';iees  of    the   cheruhs    ill    their   hollies. 

Here  are  heroisms  fair  as  chivalry  could 
boasl  :  Belf-surrenders,  consecrated  affec- 
tions, virtue.-  thai  should  extort  ;in  angel's 
praise  ;i re  ;i II  righl  before  you.  For  you 
waits  the  beauty.  Over  you  hangs  not  the 
glamour,  hut  t  he  rea lily.  Your  home  may 
be  the  idyl.  It  all  depends  on  \\  hel  her  you 
have  the  eye  to  si  A    NV   j ^CKKON, 


EXTRACTS. 

GREAT  Truths  are  portions  of  the  soul 
of  man  ; 
Great  Souls  arc  portions  of  Eternity  ; 
Each  drop  of  blood  thai  e'er  through  true 
hearl  ran 
With  lofty  message,  ran  for  thee  and  me. 

/.'-   Noble!  and  the  nobleness  that  lies 
In  other  men,  sleeping,  but  never  dead, 
Will  rise  in  majesty  to  meet  thine  own. 

We  see  hut   half  the  eaus   s  of  our  deeds, 
Seeking  them  wholly,  in  the  outer  life, 
And  heedless  of  the  encircling  spirit-world, 
Which,  though  unseen,  is  felt,  and  sows  in  us 
All  germs  of  pure  and  world-wide  purposes. 
From  one  stage  of  our  being  to  the  next 
We  pass  unconscious  o'er  a  slender  bridge, 
The  momentary  work  of  unseen  hand.-, 
Which  crumbles  down  behind  us. 

We  call  our  sorrows  Destiny,  hut  oughl 
Rather  to  name  our  high  successes  so. 

•  I  \  mes  Russell  Lowell. 


64 


STANZAS    TO    FREEDOM. 

IS  true  Freedom  but  to  break 
Fetters  for  our  own  dear  sake. 
And,  with  leathern  hearts,  forgel 
That  we  owe  mankind  a  debl  '.' 
No  !  true  freedom  is  to  share 
All  the  chains  our  brothers  wear, 
Ami.  with  heart  ami  hand,  to  he 
Earnesl  1"  make  others  free  ! 

They  a re  sla ves  who  far  to  speak 
For  the  fallen  and  the  weak  : 
They  are  slaves  who  will  not  choose 
i  [atred,  Ecoffing,  ami  abuse, 
Ral her  than  in  silence  shrink 
From  the  truth  they  needs  musl  think 

They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  he 

Tn  the  right  with  two  or  three. 

New  occasions  teach  new  dul  i< 

Time  makes  ancienl  good  uncouth  ; 
They  must  upward  si  ill.  ami  onward, 

Who  would  keep  abreasl  of  t ruth. 

Jamks  Hi  -i  i.i    Lowell. 


•  . 


FROM    THE    IMITATION   OF    CHRIST. 
TV  KX  thyself  to  the  invisible. 

He  to  whom  the  Eternal  WorJ  speaketh, 
i~  delivered  from  many  an  opinion. 

lie  is  truly  greal  who  hath  great  love. 

Ami  he   is  truly    learned    who  doth  the 

will  of  God  iiinl  forsaketh  his  own  will. 

Who  hath  ;i  greater  combat  than  he  thai 
Laboreth  t<>  overcome  himself  ? 

Do  what  lieth  in  thy  p  iwer,and  God  will 
assisl  thy  good  will. 

If  every  year  we  would  root  out  one  vice. 
we  should  soon  become  perfecl  men. 

It  hurteth  thee  not  to  submit  to  nil  men: 
hut    it  hurtoth  thee  most  of  all   to   prefer 

thyself  even  to  one. 

Occasions  do   not  make  a   man  frail,  hut 
they  shew  what    he  is. 

lie   doeth    well    that    rather    serveth    the 
common  weal  t han  his  own  will. 

I'lessed  are  the  single-hearted,  for  they 

shall  enjoy  much  peace. 
Oil 


He  doeth  much  that  loveth  much. 

Endeavor  to  be  patient  in  bearing  with 
the  defects  and  infirmities  of  others,  of  what 
sort  soever  they  be:  for  that  thyself  also 
hast  many  tailings  which  must  be  borne 
with  by  others. 

We  know  not  oftentimes  what  we  are 
able  to  do,  but  temptation  shews  us  what 
we  are. 

Whence  shall  thy  patience  attain  her 
crown  it'  no  adversity  befall  thee? 

By   two   wings  a   man   is  lifted   up  from 

thing-   earthly,  namely  :    by  Simplicity  and 
Purity. 

hi  much  patience  shall  thy  peace  be. 

Let  the  love  of  pure  truth  draw  thee  t<> 
read.  Enquire  nol  who  spoke  this  or  that, 
but  mark  what  is  spoken. 

It"  thou  canst  nol  make  thyself  such  an 
one  a-  thou  wouldst,  how  cansl  thou  expecl 
to  have  another  in  all  things  to  thy  liking  ? 

heal  not  roughly  with  him  thai  is  tempted, 
hut  give  him  comfort,  as  thou  wouldsl  w 
to  be  done  to  t hysel l. 

THOMAH    \    K  i;\i  PIS. 


LIFE. 
Thoughts  on    Readino  "David  Grieve." 

HOW'  pathetic  is  life!  How  sad  seems 
the  past!  Whal  tender  misery  is  there 
in  the  thought  of  things  which  have  been 
and  were  dear:  and  are  no  more,  and  are 
the  dearer  for  nol  being!  How  (he  hopes, 
and  loves,  and  joys,  that  were  of  yore,  come 
back  to  ns  bringing  regret  with  them!  And 
yet  there  should  be  no  regret.  It  is  not  the 
thing  but  the  lesson  that  counts  in  the  sum 
of  being.  Not  the  love,  but  the  having  loved; 
nol  the  hope,  but  the  hoping;  not  the  joy, 
hut  the  joyousness  that  is  the  vital  thing. 
Love,  hope,  joy — these  are  of  worth  as  they 
make  as.  If  they  have  made  us,  that  is  all 
we  need  ask.  Then  there  should  he  no  re- 
gret.    Then-  is  pathos,  heeause  these  greal 

things    have    passed    and     have   not    left    us 

great. 

I  (ESLIE    W.  Sl'RAGUE. 


68 


COUNSEL   TO  AN   UNHAPPY    PERSON. 

YOU  must  learn  to  be  more  tolerant  and 
forbearing  with  yourself.  You  need  to 
be  as  patient,  soft,  considerate,  forgiving, 
magnanimous  and  loving  with  yourself  as 
you  would  desire  to  be  with  another.  You 
are  your  own  divinely  given  friend,  a  com- 
panion forever  inseparable.  So  quarrel,  no 
divorce,  no  fate,  can  ever  possibly  sunder 
this  union.  Why  not,  then,  make  it  a  calm 
and  happy  co-operation  of  yourself  with 
yourself  to  outgrow  faults,  to  perfecl  merits. 
to  be  full  of  resignation  and  aspiring  repose 
in  fulfillment  of  duty  ?  Do  not  blame  your 
self  cruelly,  nor  think  of  escaping  from  your- 
Belf;  hut  pardon  your  failures,  and  quietly 
keep  trying  ti  1  you  succeed  in  gaining  that 
full  Bel f- possession  in  equilibrium  which  is 
:it  once  happiness  and  religion. 

W  i  i.i.i  \  m    [toi   n-i.vi  i.i.i:    A  i.<.  1:1:. 


REAL    GREATNESS. 

REAL  greatness  has  nothing  to  do  with  a 
man's  sphere.  It  does  not  lie  in  the 
magnitude  of  his  outward  agency,  in  the  ex- 
tent of  the  effects  which  he  products.  The 
greatest  men  may  do  comparatively  little 
abroad.  Perhaps  the  greatest  in  our  city  al 
this  moment  are  buried  in  obscurity.  Gran- 
deur of  character  lies  wholly  in  force  of  soul ; 
that  is,  in  the  force  of  thought,  moral  prin- 
ciple, and  love,  and  (his  may  be  found  in  ( he 
humblest  condition  of  life.  A  man  brought 
up  to  an  obscure  trade,  and  hemmed  in  by 
the  wants  of  a  growing  family,  may,  in  his 
narrow  sphere,  perceive  more  clearly,  dis- 
criminate more  keenly,  weigh  evidence  more 
wisely,  seize  on  the  right  means  more  deci- 
sively, and  have  mote  presence  of  mind  in 
difficulty,  than  another  who  lias  accumu- 
lated vasl  stores  of  knowledge  by  laborious 
study;  and  he  has  more  of  intellectual  gn  at- 
ness.  .Many  a  man,  who  has  gone  hut  a  few 
miles  from  home,  understands  human  na- 
ture better,  detect-  motives  and  weighs 
character   more   sagaciously,  than    another 

who  has  traveled  over  the  known  world,  and 
70 


made  a  name  by  his  reports  of  different  coun- 
tries. It  is  force  of  thought  which  measures 
intellectual,  and  so  it  is  force  of  principle 
which  measures  moral,  greatness,  that  high- 
i  -•  of  human  endowments,  the  brightest 
manifestation  of  the  Divinity.  The  greatest 
man  is  he  who  chooses  the  right  with  in- 
vincible  resolution,  who  resists  the  sorest 
temptations  from  within  and  without,  who 
bears  the  heaviest  burdens  cheerfully,  who 
i-  calmest  in  storms,  most  fearless  under 
menace  and  frowns,  and  whose  reliance  on 
truth,  on  virtue,  on  God, is  most  unfaltering. 

A  man  is  greal  as  a  man.  be  he  where  or 
what  he  may.  The  •_  ramleur  of  his  nature 
turn-  to  insignificance  all  outward  distinc- 
tions. His  p  »wers  of  intellect,  of  conscience, 
of  love,  of  knowing  God,  of  perceiving  the 
beautiful,  of  acting  on  his  own  mind,  on 
outward  nature,  and  on  his  fellow  creature- 
—  these  are  glorious  prerogativi  3. 

The  distinctions  of  society  vanish  before 
the  lighl  of  these  truths. 

William   Ellkui   Channing. 


71 


I  HE    MIND   OF   CHRIST. 

T<>   have  the  mind  of  Christ   is  the  only 
way  of  surely  learning  the  intenl  of  God 
in  this  life  He  has  given  you.     Go  to  Jesus 

in  His  filial  experience  of  the  Father,  in  His 
self-sacrificing  love  of  sinners,  in  His  daunt- 
less war  on  evil;  go  in  His  way  of  prayer 
and  watching,  and  work,  and  yon  will  learn 
the  secret  of  1 1  is  trusl  and  hope.  With  Him, 
ask.  and  yon  shall  receive  the  Father's  face; 
seek, and  you  shall  find  a  Life  Work:  knock. 
and  there  shall  be  opened  to  yon  all  myste- 
ries of  Spirit.  I  state  such  a  plan  of  salva- 
tion, not  as  a  narrow  dogma,  hut  as  an  all- 
inclusive  and  life-giving  principle.  I  say, 
especially  to  young  men  and  women,  take 
Jesus  thus  for  your  inspiration,  and  His  mo- 
tive as  your  motive:  and  the  grasp  of  His 
strong  hand  will  lift  you  above  temptation. 
a  hove  doubt,  and  at  last  make  your  being  an- 
swer <iod's  infinite  purpose  in  bestowing  it. 
Christ's  religion,  spiritually  discerned,  bas 
all  the  elements  of  universality.  His  glori- 
ous Experience,  in  which  was  solved  the 
struggles  of  will  and  conscience,  reason  and 
faith,  is    the    light    in    which    man   can    ever 


trust.  It  is  the  type  by  which  every  man 
can  find  the  " law  of  evolution "  in  charac- 
ter, and,  through  the  imparted  Life-germ,  find 
ethical  and  spiritual  Growth.  The  sun  in 
the  sky  is  God's  inclusive  life  of  nature. 
Jesus  is  such  a  Sun  of  Love  and  Law  and 
Life  in  the  spiritual  world.  May  we  so  dis- 
cern Him,  "growing  up  in  all  things  into 
Him  which  is  the  head  ":  "  coming  in  the 
unity  of  the  faith  and  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  Son  of  God,  unto  a  perfect  man,  unto 
the  measure  of  the  st. ut ure  of  the  fullness  of 
Christ  ":  drawing  ever  nearer  the  Heavenly 
On< — of  whom  Jesus  said,  "I  ascend  unto 
My  Father  and  your  Father,  and  unto  My 
I  and  your  God." 

T.   I..   Eliot. 


♦ 


DOING    AND   BEING. 
Selections    from    Emerson. 

DON'T  bewail  and  bemoan;  omil  the 
negative  propositions.  Nerve  us  with 
incessant  affirmatives.  Don't  waste  your- 
self in  negation,  nor  bark  against  the  bad, 
but  chant  the  beauty  of  the  good.  When 
that  is  spoken  which  has  a  right  to  be 
Spoken,  the  chatter  and  the  criticism  will 
stop.  Set  down  nothing  that  will  not  help 
somebody.  The  affirmative  of  affirmatives 
is  love;  as  much  love,  so  much  perception; 
as  caloric  to  matter,  so  is  love  to  mind;  so 
it  enlarges  and  so  it  empowers  it.  (iood- 
will  makes  insight,  as  one  finds  his  way 
to  the  sea  by  embarking  on  a  river. — 
Success. 

The  best  part  of  health  is  fine  disposition. 
It  i-  more  than  talent,  even  in  the  works  of 
talent.  Nothing  will  supply  the  want  of 
sunshine  to  peaches;  and.  to  make  knowl- 
edge valuable,  you  must  have  the  cheerful- 
ness of  wisdom.  Whenever  you  are  sin- 
cerely  pleased,  you  are  nourished.  The  joy 
of    the   spirit    indicate-    its    strength.     All 

:i 


healthy  things  arc  sweet-tempered. — Con- 
rations  by  the  Way. 

If  you  accept  your  thoughts  as  inspira- 
tions from  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  obey 
them  when  they  prescribe  difficult  duties, 
tuse  they  come  only  so  long  as  they  are 
used;  or  if  your  scepticism  reaches  to  the  last 
verge,  and  you  have  no  confidence  in  any 
foreign  mind,  then  be  brave,  because  there 
is  one  good  opinion  which  must  always  be 
of  consequence  to  you.  namely,  your  own. 
— Couragi . 

You  think,  because  you  have  spoken 
nothing  when  others  -poke,  and  have  given 
no  opinion  on  the  times,  on  the  church,  on 
marriage,  on  socialism,  on  secrel  societies, 
on  the  college,  on  parties  and  persons,  that 
your  verdict  is  -till  expected  as  a  reserved 
wisdom.  Far  otherwise;  your  silence  an- 
:s  very  loud.  You  have  no  oracle  to 
utter,  and  your  fellow-men  have  Learned 
that  you  cannot  help  t hem  :  for  oracles 
speak. — Spiritual  Laws. 


THE    REVELATION   OF   THE   SPIRIT. 

IT  1ms  been  affirmed  that  civilization  and 
the  progress  of  societies  arc  wholly  and 
purely  an  intellectual  product.  T<>  assert 
this  is  to  forgel  the  gift  of  God,  and  whal  it 
is  that  keeps  the  human  heart  from  dying 
out,  and  all  the  powers  from  perishing 
through  utter  corruption. 

It  is  not  our  laws  and  courts,  not  well- 
balanced  constitutions  and  social  devices, 
nut  science  and  steam  and  electro- magnet- 
ism, that  have  brought  us  thus  far,  and 
made  the  world  what  it  is  :  lint  beneath  all 
these,  and  a  hove  them  all,  a  divine  impulse, 
never  wanting  to  the  race  of  men  ;  a  divine 
Spirit  forever  haunting  them  with  those 
two  radical  and  universal  ideas, — truth  and 
duty,  without  whose  penetrating  and  crea- 
tive power,  not  one  -tone  would  ever  have 
been  laid  upon  another  of  all  our  cities,  no 
tree  ever  Celled,  no  human  implement  fash- 
ioned for  its  work.  And.  if  God  should 
now  withdraw  His  Spirit,  this  proud  civil- 
ization, this  shining  and  sounding  culture, 
with  its  traffic  and  its  arts,  its  stately  con- 
ventions  ami    fair   humanities,  would    dis- 


solve:  the  wild  beasts  that  are  raired  in 
these  human  frames,  now  awed  and  tamed 
by  the  presence  of  that  Spirit,  would  creep 
forth,  and  rend,  and  devour,  and  the  civil- 
i.  ed  earth  revert  to  chaos  and  night. 

The  individual  no  more  Than  society  can 
dispense  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  needs 
its  promptings,  and  he  needs  its  peace:  he 
need-  it-  strength,  and  he  needs  its  conso- 
lation. No  earthly  power  can  avert  calamity 
and  sharp  distress,  the  loss  of  his  beloved, 
the  wreck  of  his  hope.  The  Holy  Spirit  is 
the  only  comforter  thai  can  reach  him  in 
those  deeps  and  make  the  nighl  seem  Light 
about  him. 

Bui  suppose  this  earthly  world  could 
traversed,  and  this  mortal  life  lived, 
without  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  how 
will  it  lie  when  the  gulf  yawns  toward 
which  we  are  drifting  ?  No  earthly  power 
can  bridge  thai  gulf  or  ferry  as  over  it. 

[f     ever     We     fi.-e     ;  I '_: ;  I  1  1 1     to      COnSCiOUS      life, 

it  will  be  by  do  na1  ive  power,  bul  by  the 
operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  and  unless 
the  Spirit  dwell  in  ns,  Buperstition  may 
have  an  idol,  conscience  a  law,  philosophy 
a  name;  bu1  the  hea it  ha-  no  God. 

I'm  DER1C    III  \i:i     1 1  i  i«.i  . 

77 


THE   FOOL'S    PRAYER. 

TIIK  roya]  feasl   was  done;  the  King 
Soughl  out  some  new  spoil  to  banish 
care, 
Ami  to  his  jester  cried  :    "  Sir  Fool, 
Kneel  down  and  make  for  us  a  prayer!" 

The  jester  dotted  his  cap  and  bells, 
And  stood  the  mocking  court  before; 

They  could  not  see  the  bitter  smile 
Behind  the  painted  grin  he  wore. 

lie  bowed  his  head,  and  benl  his  knee 

rpon  the  monarch's  silken  stool ; 
His  pleading  voice  arose:    "OLord, 

lie  merciful  to  me.  a  fool  ! 

'•  No  pity,  Lord,  could  change  the  hearl 
From  red  with  wrong  to  white  as  wool  ; 
The  rod  must  heal  the  sin  :   hut  Lord, 
Be  merciful  to  me.  ;l  fool  ! 

" 'T  is  not  by  guili  the  onward  sweep 
Of  truth  and  right,  <>  Lord,  we  stay; 
T  is  by  oui-  follies  thai  so  long 

We  hold  the  earth  from  heaven  away. 

;- 


••  These  clumsy  feet,  still  in  the  mire, 
Go  crushing  blossoms  withoul  <  ncl : 
These  hard,  well-meaning  hands  we  thrust 
Among  the  heart-strings  of  a  friend. 

"The  ill-timed  truth  we  might  have  kept — 
Who  knows  how  sharp  it  pierced  and 
-•  ung  ".' 
The  word  we  had  not  Bense  to  say — 
Who  knows  how  grandly  it  had  rung  ? 

"Our  fault-  no  tenderness  should  ask. 
The  chastening   stripes    must    cleanse 
tin 'in  all  : 
I'.  \\  for  niir  blunders — oh,  in  shame 
Before  the  eyes  of  heaven  we  fall. 

I'. ait li  bea i'-  ii"  ha Isa m  for  mistakes  : 
Men  crown  the  knave,  and  scourge  the 

too] 

Thai  did  his  will:  bul  Thou,  <>  Lord. 
Be  merciful  to  me,  ;i  fool  ! 


The  room  was  hushed  :  in  silence  rose 

The  King,  and  sought  bis  gardens  cool, 
And  walked  apart,  and  murmured  low . 
"  Be  merciful  to  me,  a  fool  !  " 


la>\\  \  i:ii   Rowland  Si  i.i. 


WORDS    FROM    GEORGE    ELIOT. 

BY  desiring  what  is  perfectly  good,  even 
when  we  don'1  quite  know  what  it  is, 
and  cannot  do  what  we  would,  we  are  part 
of  the  divine  power  againsl  evil — widening 
the  skirts  of  life,  ami  making  the  struggle 
with  i lark ncs-    narrower.  —  Middlemarch. 

Nay,  never  falter:  no  greal  di't-d  is  done 
By  falterers  who  ask  for  certainty. 
No  good  is  certain,  hut  the  steadfast  mind — 
The  undivided  will  to  seek  the  good. 

— Spanish  Gypsy. 

There  is  no  sort  of  wrong  deed  of  which  a 
man  can  bear  the  punishment  alone.  Men's 
lives  are  as  thoroughly  blended  with  each 
other  as  the  air  they  breathe;  evil  spreads 
a>  necessarily  as  disease. — Admit  Bede. 

It's  plain  enough  you  gel  into  the  wrong 
road  T  this  life  it'  you  run  after  this  and  that 
only  for  tin'  sake  o'  making  things  easy  and 
plea-ant  to  yourself.  A  ]>i^  may  poke  his 
nose  into  the  trough  and  think  o' nothing 
outside  it  :  hut.  if  you've  '_rot  a  man's  heart 
and  soul  in  you, you  can't  be  easy  a-making 

BO 


your  own  bed,  an"  leaving  the  rest  to  lie  on 

the  -tone-. — .  Idam  Bt  a 

A  wise  man,  more  than  two  thousand 
years  aLr<>.  when  he  was  asked  what  would 
mosl  tend  to  lessen  injustice  in  the  world, 
said,  that  ••(•very  bystander  should  feci  as 
indignant  at  a  wrong  as  it'  he  himself  were 
the  sufferer. " — Addr  ss  1 1  Workingmen. 

The  growing  good  of  the  world  is  partly 
dependent  on  unhistoric  acts;  and  that  things 
are  no1  so  ill  with  you  and  meas  they  might 
have  been,  is  half  owing  to  the  number  who 
lived  faithfully  a  hidden  life  and  resl  in  un- 
visited  graves. — MidclL  march. 

< >  may  I  join  the  choir  invisible 

Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 

In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence ;  live 

In  pulses  st irred  to  generosity 

In  deeds  of  daring  rectitude — in  scorn 

I    r  miserable  aims  thai  end  wil  h  self 

In  thoughts  sublime  thai    pierce  the  night 

like  stars, 
And  with  their  mild  persistence  urge  man's 

-<  ;ileh 

I  ■  ies.  — Poems. 


81 


UNITY. 

THE  intellectual  and  religious  life  are  not 
complete,    they   do    not    rise  to    their 
highest    power,  they  do  nol   take  on   their 

finest  quality,  until  they  come  to  liar ny 

and  unity.  When  a  man's  intellectual  Life 
is  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  his  reli- 
gious life  is  of  th<'  sixteenth;  when  Ins 
science  is  of  this  age,  and  his  theology  thai 
(if  (he  Middle  Ages,  there  is  a  dislocation 
somewhere  in  his  mental  method.  Unity 
of  thoughl  and  lite  is  impossible  with  him 
until  he  brings  up.  his  theology  into  line 
with  his  science, — yes,  more,  puts  his  the- 
ology in  the  front,  as  the  pioneer  of  his  think- 
ing and  action  throughout. 

The  painful  exhibitions  of  theological 
lameness  and  partial  paralysis,  now  so  com- 
mon, are  witnesses  of  this  dislocation.  We 
i  he  melancholy  ?pi  etaele  of  men.  other- 
wise strong  and  wise,  twisting  and  turning 
in  mental  attitude-  al  once  grotesque  and 
painful,  in  order  to  keep  some  sort  of  living 
connection  between  their  scientific  knowl- 
edge and  their  religious  beliefs.  But  it  is 
all  in   vain   unless  the  connection   is  an  or- 

82 


ganic  one,— a  real,  honest,  thorough  intel- 
lectual unity.  No!  to  fall  into  intellectual 
arrest,  one  must  keep  right  <>n  with  the  age 
in  which  he  Lives. 

My  scientific  friend,  do  not  stop  with  the 
evolution  of  the  physical.  The  psychical  is 
higher.  It  reflects  more  clearly  the  Divine 
Thought.  It  energizes,  directs  and  moulds 
the  physical,  h  is  creative.  The  physical 
is  that  which   is  creat<  d. 

And  you,my  theological  friend,  whocling 
so  strongly  to  the  thoughl  of  the  past,  be- 
lieve in  the  present,  immanenl  <  rod.  You 
cannol  make  your  thought  of  Him  too  large. 
Y"it  think  Hi-  love  is  conditioned,  and 
Hi-  children  those  only  whom  man  elects 
by  creed  and  sign.  Rather  be  afraid  of  ex- 
cluding anything  or  any  one.  For  it  is  not. 
as  was  once  written,  "A  fearful  thing  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  t  he  living  <  rod  "  ;  but, 
were  it  possible,  it  would  be  a  fearful  thing 
to  fall  out  of  the  hand-  of  the  living  God. 

Because  I  [e  lives,  you  and  I  live.  Because 
He  i-  t  hi  l-'.ii  her,  you  and  I  are  spiritual 
beings,  able  to  think  these  greal  thoughts, 
to  feel  t  hesi   holy  impulses,  and  to  aspire  to 

com  pli  ter  life  in  Him. 

i'..  r.  Mi  Danii  i  . 


UNBROKEN     LIVES. 

THERE  are  some  who  hold  their  onward, 
upward    way    with   steady    increasing 

power,  as  if  they  had  a  specia]  talent  for  ex- 
cellence and  a  genius  for  virtue.  There  is 
no  "great  mistake  "  in  their  lives,  no  "un- 
pardonable sin,"  no  "fall": — resolution 
transforms  inclination,  and  hindrance  is 
changed  to  moral  power.  These  are  the  line 
spirits  that  do  no  wrong,  and  win  their  vic- 
tories not  over  their  dead  selves,  hut  by  the 
love  of  eternal  beauty  as  it  dwells  in  God. 
They  are  not  covered  with  dust  and  lt f i 1 1 1 « - 
of  conflict  with  earthly  temptations,  hut 
their  wings  are  clean  and  strong,  beating 
tiie  pure  air  where  the  joy  of  life  is  the  liv- 
ing, and  the  heart  is  blessed  in  the  being. 
These  are  the  great  soul-  which  no  earthly 
station  can  glorify  or  humiliate. 

Hut  with  most  of  us  it  is  not  so  :-  reso- 
lution i-  ;l  reed  often  hrokell.  and  We  need 
New  Years'  days,  and  Old  Years'  nights  in 
which  to  repent  of  our  past  and  plume  the 
wings  of  purpose.  For  most  of  us,  sooner  or 
later,  there  is  a  realm  of  moral  anguish, 
deliverance    from    which     is    only    through 


-i 


penitence  and  suffering.  In  most  men  there 
must  be  a  tragedy  of  the  soul,  and  the 
••  majesty  of  righteousness  "  must  be  burned 
into  us.  The  youth  -owing  wild  oats  has 
come  to  no  place  of  experience  yet  : — his 
purgatorial  fires  are  under  the  burning  sun 
of  the  mid-day  of  life,  as  he  bends  to  the 
harvest  of  folly. 

It  has  been  said  that  we  dig  our  graves  in 
our  youth  :  but  a  Badder  thing  is  a  low- 
toned,  dull  maturity  that  has  no  resurrec- 
tion power,  and  hold.-  on  to  lite  from  mere 
animal  instincts.  The  only  thing  that  can 
help  us  is  a  new  resolve  by  which  the  breath 
of  heaven  may  till  our  >ails.  and  bring  us 
out  of  the  wretched  doldrums  of  a  soul  de 
layed  in  the  senses,  into  the  wide  sea  and 
free  wind-  of  new  life.  If  we  can  carry  our 
self-reproach,  accepting  willingly  it>  bur- 
den, knowing  that  we  are  not  estranged 
from  the  love  ami  forgiveness  of  G-od,  there 
i-.i  greal  hope  for  us  all.  II' we  can  endure 
without  complaint,  and  say  unto  God,  Lei 
the  blow  <</'  'I'lii/  mi  rcy  full,  only  hide  not  Thy 
fan         wo   may  win  our  destiny  and  our 

peace. 

Hokatio  Stkhhixk. 


MODERN    PROGRESS. 

THE  greal  mechanical  impulses  of  the 
age,  of  which  most  of  us  are  so  proud, 
are  a  mere  passing  fever,  half  speculative, 
half  childish.     People  will  discover  at   last 

that  royal  roads  to  anything  can  no  more 
be  laid  in  iron  than  they  can  in  dust;  there 
arc  no  royal  roads,  in  fact,  to  anywhere 
worth  going  to.  For  there  arc  two  classes 
.if  precious  things  in  the  world  ;  those  that 
God  gives  us  for  nothing — sun,  air,  and 
life  (both  mortal  and  immortal):  and  the 
secondarily  precious  things  which  He  gives 
ns  for  a  price;  these  precious  things  can 
only  he  bought  for  definite  money;  no 
cheating  or  bargaining  will  ever  get  a  single 
thing  out  of  Nature's  "establishment"  at, 
half  price.  Do  we  want  to  he  strong?  we 
must  work.  To  be  hungry  ?  we  must  starve. 
To  he  happy  ?  we  must  he  kind.  To  he 
wise?  we  must  look  and  think.  No  chang- 
ing of  place  at  a  hundred  miles  an  hour, 
nor  making  of  stuffs  a  thousand  yards  a  min- 
ute, will  make  us  stronger,  happier,  or  wiser. 
There  wa-  always  more  in  the  world  than 
men  could    see,  walked    they  ever  so  slowly. 


■•  But  railroads  and  telegraphs  arc  so  use- 
ful for  communicating  knowledge  u>  savage 
nations." 

Well  :  when  you  have  moved  your  sav- 
age, dressed  him,  fed  him  with  white  bread, 
and  shown  him  how  to  set  a  limb, — given 
him  every  advantage  of  civilization,  taught 
him  the  delights  of  horse-racing,  of  assem- 
blies  in    the  night    instead  of   the  daw  of 

-dy  and  burdensome  dress,  of  chagrined 
contcn! i on  for  place, or  power,  or  wealth,  and 
all  the  endless  occupation  without  purpose, 
and  idleness  without  rest,  of  our  vulgar 
world. — what  nexl  ?  These  are  not  enjoy- 
ments, it  seems  to  me,  that  we  need  be 
ambitious  to  communicate. 

All  real  and  wholesome  enjoyments  to 
man  have  been  just  as  possible  to  him  since 
first    he  was  made,  as   they   are   now  ;  and 

they     are    chiefly    in     peace.      To    watch    the 

corn  grow,  and  the  blossoms  set  ;  to  draw 
hard  breath  over  ploughshare  or  spade;  to 
read,  to  think,  to  love,  to  pray.  The  world's 
prosperity  or  adversity  depends  upon  our 
'•\  ing  and  teaching  t  hese  /<  w  thin 

•  I  "ii  \    RUSKIN. 


JESUS   THE   CARPENTER. 

ISN'T  this  Joseph's  son  ?  "— ay,  it  is  He; 
Joseph    the   carpenter  -same    trade   as 
n  u — 
J  thought  as  I'd  find  it — I  knew  it  was  here 
Bu1  my  sight's  getting  queer. 

I  don't    know  right  where  as  His  shed  must 

ha'  stood — 
But  often,  as  I've   been  a-planing  my  wood, 
I've  took  off  my  hat.  j  nst  with  thinking  of  He 
At  the  same  work  as  me. 

Hewarn't  that  set  up  that  He  couldn't  stoop 
down 

And    work   in  the   country   for   folks   in   the 

town  ; 
And   I'll  warrant    He  fell  a   hit   pride,   like 
I've  done 
At  a  g I  job  begun. 

The  parson  he  knows  that   I'll  not  make  too 

free; 
lint  on  Sunday  I  feels  a-  pleased  as  can  be, 
When  I  wears   my  clean  -mock,  and   sits  in 

a  pew, 


And  ha-  thoughts  a   few 


- 


I  think  of  as  how  not  the  parson  hissen, 
As  is  teacher  and   father  and   shepherd  o' 

men, 
Not  he  knows  as  much  of  the  Lord  in  that 
shed, 
Where  He  earned  I  lis  own  bread. 

And   when  I   goes  home  to  my  missus,  says 

she, 
••  Arc  you  wanting  your  key  ?  " 
For  she  knows  my  queer  ways,  and  my  love 

for  the  sheil, 

I  We've  been  forty  years  wed). 
So  I  comes  right  away  by  mysen,  with  the 

hook. 

And    1    turns  the  old    |ia<ics  and    has   a    good 

look 
For  the  text  as  ['ve  found,  as  tells  me  as  He 
\\  ere  t  hi'  sa me  t rade  as  me. 

Why  don't    1   mark  it  ?      Ah.  many  -avs  SO, 
l>Mt    I'd    think    I'll    as    lief,  with   your  li  ave, 

let  it  go; 
It    do    -''in    that     nice    when     I     fall    on     it 
b  u  d  d  e  n — 
I '  nexpected,  yc  I.  now  ! 

I.I'.    I    l:\-l    l:    T'S   IN   i: 
M  I-  -.    EDW  IRD    LlDDI 


w 


ASPIRATIONS. 
HAT    Christ     is    to    us    may    we    be   to 

those  around  us.  Inon. 


What  is  a  Christian  ?     A  man  or  woman 

who   wants   to   be    what    Christ  was.  and    do 
what  He  did.  Anon. 


May  I  reach 

That  purer  heaven,  be  to  other  souls 
The  cup  of  strength  in  some  great  agony. 
Enkindle  generous   ardor,  i'wd  pure  love. 
Be  the  sweet  presence  of  a  good  diffused. 
And  in  diffusion  ever  more  intense! 
So  shall  I   join  the  choir  invisible 
Whose  music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world. 

George  Eliot. 


Let  us  have  a  church  that  dares  imitate 
the  heroism  of  Jesus;  seek  inspiration  as 
He  sought  it  :  judge  the  past  a-  I  le  ;  act  on 
the  present  like  Him:  pray  as  He  prayed: 
work  as    He    wrought:    live    as    He    lived. 

90 


Let  our  doctrines  and  our  forms  fit  the 
sou],  as  the  limbs  fit  the  body,  growing 
out  of  it,  growing  with  it.  Let  us  have  a 
church  for  the  whole  man,  truth  for  the 
mind,  good  works  for  the  hands,  love  for 
the  heart;  and  for  the  sou]  that  aspiring 
after  perfection,  that  unfaltering  faith  in 
God  which,  like  lightning  in  the  clouds, 
shines  brightest  when  elsewhere  it  is  most 
dark.  Theodore  Parker, 


It  is  surprising  how  practical  duty  en- 
riches the  fancy  and  the  heart,  and  deepens 
the  affections:  Indeed,  no  one  can  have 
a  t rue  idea  of  righl  until  he  does  it  ;  any 
genuine  reverence  for  it  till  he  has  done 
it  often  and  with  cosl  :  any  peace  ineffable 
in  it  till  he  does  it  always  and  with  alacrity. 
Does  any  one  complain  that  t be  besl  afFec 
tion-  are  transient  visitors  with  him,  and 
the  Heavenly  Spiril  a  stranger  to  his  hearl  '.' 
Ah.  lei  him  not  go  fort  h  on  any  si  rained 
H  ing  of  thoughl  in  distant  quesl  of  them  : 
bnt  rather  stay  at  home,  and  set  his  house 
in  the  true  order  of  conscience :  and  of 
their  own  accord  the  divinesl  guests  will 
enter.  .1.  m  u:l  [NBAUi 


THE    FAITH    OF  ETHICS. 

Ethics  thought  out  is  religious  thought  : 

Ethic*  felt  out  is  religious  feeling : 
Ethics  firnl  out  is  religious  life. 

WHERE  docs  the  boundary  line  fall  ? 
Where  does  "  morality  "  end  and  "  re- 
ligion "  begin?  Is  it  not  all  a  question  of 
horizon?  To  answer  this  question,  will  you 
not  look,  first,  at  the  mystic  element  in  ev- 
ery simplest  Ought,  and  then  at  the  mystic 
(dement  in  our  deeper,  more  complex,  sprit- 
nal  experiences?  The  Ought:  in  the  mystic 
element  in  every  simplest  perception  of  the 
Ought  I  fee]  a  •■faith;'  the  Faith  of  Ethics. 
I  am  not  wise  to  know,  perhaps  none  is.  the 
source  and  nature  of  this  familiar  obliga- 
tion. But  whatever  he  its  origin,  here  it  is 
in  us,  a  mystic  obligation,  a  thing  that 
haunts  us  with  hints  and  vanishes  of  power 
supreme  and  absolute.  It  commands,  and. 
what  is  more,  its  command  eiders  into  al- 
rnosl  every  deed  concerning  which  we  con- 
sciously deliberate.  Is  there  a  deed  un- 
daunted by  this  omnipresenl  imp  a  little 
Ought?     I  am  debating  alone  with  myself, 


whether  I  will  go  into  some  new  business, 
or  remain  in  sonic  old  business  which  affects 
the  community  thus:  and  so:  the  Ought  is 
there  with  me, — it  is  the  other  debater. 

A  hundred  men  are  concerned  in  a  deed: 
the  Ought  is  in  them  all,  determining  the 
precise  relation  of  each  one  to  that  deed.  It 
is  no  more  an  Ought  because,  instead  of  two, 
a  hundred  are  involved.  There  is  no  little 
and  big  in  Ollghl  any  more  than  there  is 
little  and  big  iii  gravitation. 

Sow,  tell  me,  if  you  can  :  this  faith  in  an 
infinite  element  entering  into  the  smallesl 
duty,  this  faith  thai  a  law  of  right  which 
presides  at  the  birth  of  the  world  is  holding 
and  playing  and  presiding  between  the 
mixed  motives  in  a  little  child's  breast, — 
tell  me.  if  you  can,  which  is  it,  a  faith  of 
"  moralitv  "  or  a  faith  of  "religion"?  [f  anv 
faith  can  be  a  "religious"  faith,  this  belongs 
to  thai  order.  I  ),„•-  jt  ,M,i  come  to  t  his,  the 
refrain  I  wish  you  would  carry  with  you,  to 
think  over,  and  see  if  it  he  qoI  true — 

Ethics  thought  mil  is  religious  thought  : 
Ethicsfelt  out  it   r<  ligi  <<    f, ,  ling  : 

Ethici  1 1  it  ii  mil  is  ii  ligiovs  lit\ . 

w.  < '.  Gannki  I  . 


WAITING. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  thai   I  have  been  waiting  for 
myself." — Harjati. 

WK  often  have  to  wait  a  very  long  time 
for  (nil-selves;  but  if  we  patiently  wait 
and  faithfully  wait,  and  keep  our  trust  and 
hope  in  the  coming,  and  do  well  our  own 
part  toward  the  coming,  the  trusted  self  will 
Surely  come  at   last. 

The  waiting  ideal  is  perhaps  mental,  per- 
haps moral.  Whether  a  man  possess  one 
talent  or  ten,  the  law  for  Use  and  increase  is 
the  same.  There  is  the  same  slow  process 
of  unfolding,  the  same  liableness  to  disap- 
pointed hopes,  the  same  subjection  to  hin- 
dering conditions,  the  same  waiting  expect 
aney  thai  the  heart's  deepest  and  most  con- 
secrated purpose  shall  yel  emerge  from  all 
impediments,  Tree  and  triumphant.  When 
we  see  through  what  incalculably  long  pro- 
cesses of  preparation  the  material  world,  with 
its  va-t  variety  of  creations,  was  passing,  to 
make  ready  for  the  advent  of  man  on  this 
planet,  we  may  say,  indeed,  and  say  it  with 
all  reverence,  that  even  Infinite  Being  waited 
long  for  Himself ;  waited  long  and  wrought 

94 


patiently  for  the  coming  of  a  finite  form  so 
adzed  that  His  own  attributes  and  pur- 
p  ise  might  be  self- manifest  therein. 

And  we  are  offspring  of  that  Being;  and 
sHe  worketh  and  waiteth  for  Himself,  reach- 
eth  not  IIi>  sublimest  formsof  revelation  a1 
once,  but  weareth  by  degrees  the  garment  of 
glory  by  which  He  is  seen,  so  must  we  work 
and  wait  fur  the  highest  revelation  of  our- 
selves, expecting  to  sec  our  cherished  hope 
often  deferred,  but  never  to  see  ii  conquered; 
doing  our  best  with  present  conditions  and 
opportunities,  but  —  or  therefore,  we  might 
rather  say, — looking  confidently  to  the  future 
to  bring  us  to  something  better  than  any  past 
or  present  has  ever  afforded.  Jn  one  form 
or  another,  it  i-  the  Lot  of  every  human  be- 
ing to  wail  for  himself.  Our  duty  is  here, 
at  the  post  of  present  responsibility,  of  pres- 
ent joy,  Borrow,  temptation  <>r  trial;  and 
here,  with  various  degrei  -  of  faithfulness  or 
unfaithfulness,  we  are  doing,  or  neglecting 
i"  'I",  t he  requirement  of  t he  hour.  Bui 
whether  doing  or  neglecting  to  do,  there  is 
ii"  one  of  us  whose  heart's  ideal  is  nol  yon- 
der, away  ahead  of  us,  awaiting  our  tardy 

W.    .1.    Pol  i  BE. 


OPPORTUNITY. 

WE  generally  think  of  opportunity  as  fa- 
vorable chance.  Has  it  ever  occurred 
to  you  that  it  is  none  the  less  opportunity 
when  the  chance  is  calle  1  unfavorable? 

There  are  limitations  of  constitution,  of 
temperament  and  of  talents,  of  which,  in 
some  degree,  we  all  are  conscious.  Circum- 
stances are  oppressive;  in  some  respects, our 
hit  is  a  hard  one.  But  shall  we  not  call  these 
also  opportunities,  opportunities  for  overcom- 
ing obstacles  ? 

We  speak  of  resignation:  it  is  a  great  vir- 
tue: but  fortitude  is  better.  Resignation 
sometimes  covers  a  weakness  which  is  re- 
signed, simply  because  it  is  weak.  Forti- 
tude has  the  character  of  resignation,  and 
strength  besides.  To  accept  our  lot,  and  not 
to  be  exhausted  in  merely  accepting  it,  is 
true  fortitude. 

Who  can  tell  where  recovery  may  not 
come  to  such  a  spirit  ?  It  will  come,  if  it  is 
within  human  or  divine  power.  There  are 
sonic  things  that  even  God  can  not  do,  bul 
He  gives  great  compensations.  David  was 
stronger  with  a  pebble  from  the  brook  than 

9(i 


if  lie  had  fought  in  armor.  Jesus  with  a 
crown  of  thorns  was  a  greater  king  than  if 
He  had  worn  the  royal  purple. 

The  consciousness  of  power  comes  from 
conquering  obstacles.  Hindrances  are.  after 
all,  our  opportunities.  God  must  regard  our 
struggle,  and  that  He  has  a  purpose  in  it  all 
we  arc  forced  to  believe,  from  the  way  He 
treats  us,  and  gives  us  all,  at  some  time,  a 
battle  to  right. 

The  idea  of  our  life  here  is  that  it  is  an 
experience.  There  is  no  perfection  hut 
character,  and  that  is  the  perfection  of 
beauty  out  of  winch  God  shines. 

Roderick  Stkbbi  n  s. 


CHEERFULNESS. 

THERE  seem  to  be  few  people  who  are 
not  willing  to  be  cheerful,  though  there 
are  those  who  apparently  are  not  able.  It 
is  a  matter  of  disposition  rather  than  cir- 
cumstances; for  we  meet  sunny  spirits  thai 
no  adversity  can  eclipse,  while  others  are 
unhappy  in  the  midst  of  everything  calcu- 
lated to  make  them  otherwise.  There  is  a 
kind  of  cheerfulness  that  is  wholly  a  matter 
of  temperament,  and  tor  which  the  possessor 
has  every  reason  to  lie  thankful,  hut  no  rea- 
son whatever  to  he 'proud.  It  may  murk 
a  small  or  light  nature:  for  the  great  soul 
commonly  has  a  touch  of  sadness.  But  it  is 
a  comfortable  and  desirable  quality,  and 
when  not  indulged  in  inordinately  or  inop- 
portunely, gives  a  greal  charm  to  its  pos- 
sessor. 

But  what  sli;ill  one  do  who  is  not  blessed 
with  ;i  happy  disposition,  who  is  disposed 
to  look  on  the  dark  side  of  things,  and  finds 
.in  uncomfortable  affinity  with  sadness?  Let 
him  first  comfort  himself  with  the  thought 
that  the  best  cheerfulness  is  not  inher- 
ited but  achieved,  and  then  seek  it>  source. 

98 


If  it  is  not  in  his  blood,  Lei  him  find  a  reason 
for  it  in  his  principles  and  convictions,  and 
build  it  into  his  character.  Dn happiness  is 
discord,  and  harmony  must  be  reached  if 
comforl  and  cheerfulness  are  desired.  Often 
its  source  is  physical  :  the  body  must  be 
considered,  and  the  life  be  brought  into  har- 
mony with  the  laws  that  underlie  health. 
Bui  above  this  suffering  body,  is  the  con- 
trolling will,  with  unknown  capacity,  and  a 
spirit  that  touches  the  Divine.  These  may 
give  us  cheer,  however  trying  our  conditions. 
This  truer  cheerfulness  is  allied  to  courage 
and  faith,  and  comes  from  strength  that 
-  on  the  Eternal  ;  when  it  becomesa  set- 
tled habit,  it  is  one  oflife's  richesl  blessings. 
If  we  believe  truly  in  <  rod  and  1  lis  goodness, 
we  must  be  cheerful;  for  His  wisdom,  power, 
and  love  are  omnipotent.  If  trials  and  suf- 
fering come  to  ns.  we  can  endure  them.  If 
sent  by  Him,  they  are  surely  for  our  good; 
and  if  they  ar<-  not  His  will,  we  can  do  His 
will  in  bearing  them  well.  Ili-  strength 
support e  us,  if  w-  once  bring  our  will  into 
harmony  with  lli-:  and,  resting  in  His  love, 
we  can  rise  to  the  heighl  of  habitual  cheer 
fnl  ii' 

(    II  \  RI.EH  A  .    M  I    R  l""  K  . 


■ 


FOR  THOU  ART  ALL. 

ART  Thou  tlie  Life  ? 
To  Tine,    then,  do  I    owe  each   beal 
mid  breath, 
And  wait  Thy  ordering  of  my  hour  of  death 
in  peace  or  strife. 

Art  Thou  the  Light  '.; 

To  Thee,  then,  in  the  sunshii r  the  cloud, 

Or  in  my  chamber  lone  or  in  the  crowd, 

I  lift  my  sight. 

Art  Thou  the  Truth? 

To  Thee,  then,  loved  and  era  veil  and  sought 

of  yore, 
I  consecrate  my  manhood  o'er  and  o'er 
As  erst  my  youth. 

Art  Thou  the  Strung? 
To  Thee,  then,  though  the  air  be  thick  with 

night, 
i  trust  the  seeming    unprotected  Right, 

And  leave  the  Wrong. 

Art  Thou  the  Wise  ? 

To  Thee,    then.  Would    I    bring   each    useless 
care, 
100 


And  bid  my  soul  unsay  her  idle  prayer, 

And  hush  her  cries. 

Art  Thou  the  Good  ? 
To  Thee,  then,  with  a  thirsting  heart  T  turn. 
And    at    thv    fountain    stand,    and   hold    niv 
urn. 

As  aye  1  stood. 

Forgive  the  call  ! 
1  cannot  shut  Thee   from   my  sense  or  soul, 
I  cannol  lose  me  in  the  boundless  whole. 

For  Thou  art  All. 

Francis  E.  A.bbot. 


ioj 


OUR     FAITH. 

TIM']  principles  of  Freedom,  Fellowship 
and  Character  in  Religion,  arc  infinite- 
ly greater  than  any  Qnitarianism;  we  are 
their  babies,  they  arc  not  ours;  they  give 
birth  to  us,  not  we  to  them.  And  ours  is 
Imt  one  voice  in  the  nursery  chorus  that  to- 
day is  trying  to  prattle  t lie  great  accents. 
But  let  us  try  to  sum  up  the  higher  mean- 
ings, higher  unities  of  faith  to  which,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  we  and  all  our  comrades  on 
the  march  are  tending.  And  if  I  call  these 
the  Higher  Unitarianism,  what  I  mean 
is  the  hope  thai  Qnitarianism  means  this 
to-day,  not  the  foolish  thought  that  faiths 
like  these  are  only  truly  named,  or  even  are 
best  named,  when  named  for  us.  1  think, 
then,  that  the  Higher  Qnitarianism  means, 
or  yet  will  mean, — 

1.  A  Tin  ism  which  sees  haw  as  Love  and 
hove  as  haw  ;  which  knows  no  miracle  hut 
the  infinite  miracle  of  nature,  heget  ting  end- 
less awe  and  endless  joy  in  man:  which 
knows  that  in  the  dialed  of  Beaven  are  no 
Mich  words  as  "accident  "  or  "tragedy,"  but 

L02 


that  what  we  misname  thus  is  really  good- 
ness on  tin-  way  to  vision. 

■_'.  It  means,  or  yet  will  mean,  a  thought 
of  Religion  which  shall  trace  its  sources  to 
actual  experiences  experienced  in  the  con- 
sciousness :  i"  gradual  dawns  of  thought, 
feeling,  motive  and  ideal  there  :  to  sudden 
shinings  sometimes  their;  to  things  that 
happen  in  us  as  really — no  more  really,  but 
as  really  as  things  happen  to  ourbodies  on 
the  street.  A  religion  which  shall  care  little 
to  argue  arguments  for  God  or  the  whys  and 
wherefores  of  prayer,  hut  shall  wake  up  to 
the  consciousness,  "  That  was  prayer!  I  did 
it!  And  the  unknown  Face  and  Force 
there  in  the  darkness  within  me  was  the — 
i      1!" 

•"..  It  means  a  Christianity  which  shall 
identity  itself  with  the  Holy  Spirit  mani- 
fested anywhere  and  everywhere;  a  Chris- 
tianity which  shall  stand  for  the  life  of 
"Christ," — not  Christ  the  man  who  once 
exemplified  the  life,  nor  ( Ihrisi  the  date, 
hut  the  impulse  "  Christ,"  the  movement 
"Christ,"  the  spirit  "Christ,"  forever  and 
forever  shaping  history  ;  now  flowering  in 
ol  ca i  p  nter-.  a nd  naming  new  spring 

'll-    ill    the    tree   0f     |i|r.    I)l|t     llCVer    I ..  LTU  1 1  . 

ioa 


;iiid  never  ended,  and  never  confined  to  any 
holy  May-hour  of  history. 

I.  It  shall  mean,  does  mean  already,  a 
Bible  which  shall  go  on  compiling  itself  in- 
side the  churches,  as  inside  the  world's  heart 
and  memory  :  freshening  old  reverences 
with  tender  new  ones,  welcoming  and  can- 
onizing new  ideas  of  truth  or  life  wherever 
nobly  rendered  into  the  perpetuating  word. 

5.  It  will  mean  a  thought  of  Immortality 
which  shall  watch,  with  eyes  undimnied  by 
(ears,  for  any  star  of  sign  and  beckoning 
that  may  break  the  skies. — skies  amid  which 
we  breathe  and  have  our  being;  but  which 
shall  he  not  one  whit  afraid  to  own  that  to 
know  of  the  future  we  must  wait  our  turn  ; 
cherishing,  meanwhile,  that  sense  of  death- 
lessness  which  comes  whenever  we  realize 
ourselves  for  moments  as  beings  who  do  not 

obey,  hut  are.    the    moral    law  :    the   sense  of 

deathlessness  which  makes  our  Easter  ques- 
tions all  begin  in  awe  and  end    in  smiles. 

6.  Finally,  it  is  yet  to  mean  a  thoughl  of 
Brotherhood;  a  recognition  that  we  all  are 
members  of  each  other  in  a  sense  so  real 
that  no  parable  can  hint  it,  and  no  science 
vet  describe  it  ;  a  recognition  that  this  trus- 
teeship  for  ea  h  other  applies  not  only  tothe 

I'm 


outermost    we  call  our  "  property,"  but,  as 
really,  to  tin-   innermost  we  call  our  "  fac- 
ulty";    a   brotherhood     which    shall    lie    a 
realizing  that  we  only  attain  true  self-hood 
by  unselfing  processes. — and  that   whatever 
unrims  us  into  oneness   with  our  fellows   in 
this  world,  sharing  their  aches,  their  pover- 
ties,   their  disinheritance   from    life's    good 
things,  that  this  unrims  us  also  into  oneness 
with  that  which  we  call,  not  fellow-man,  hut 
'  God,"  so  that  love  to   man  is  love  to  God, 
and  only  in  proportiou  to  such  love  we  live. 
I-  not   this,  or  something  nobler  yet,  the 
Unitarianism  of  our  hope?      Are  not  these 
the  higher  unities  toward   which  we.  and  a 
far  larger   h  ist    who   never  bore   and    never 
will  bear  our  name,  are  rising?     The  unity 
of  God  and   Nature;  the  unity  of  Religion 
with    Human    Nature;    the  unity  of  Chris- 
tianity   with    all    movements   of  the   Holy 
Spirit   everywhere  ;   the   unity  of  the    bible 
with  Literal ure  ;  the  unity  of  Life  hereafter 
with  Life  here  and   now  :  the  unity  of  Self 
with  other-.     These,  it  seems  to  me,  are  the 
great  faiths  to  which  the  principles  of  Free- 
dom, Fellowship  and  Character  in  Religion 

are  leading. 

w.  c  ganni  ii. 


FROM    AMI  I  IS    JOURNAL. 

WE  arc   too   busy,  too  encumbered,  too 
much  occupied,  too  active!     We  read 
too    much!      The  one   thing   needful  is    to 

throw  offal]  one's  load  of  cares,  of  preOCCU- 

pations,  of  pedantry,  and  to  become  again 
young,  simple, childlike,  living  happily  and 
gracefully  in   the  present  hour.     We  must 

know  how  to  put  occupation  aside,  which 
does  not  mean  thai  we  must  be  idle.     In  an 

inaction,  which  is  meditative  and  attentive. 
the  wrinkles  of  the  soul  are  moved  away, 
and  the  soul  itself  spreads,  unfolds  and 
Springs    afresh,   and. 'like   the  trodden    grass 

of  the  roadside,  or  the  bruised  leaf  of  the 

I d  nt .  repairs  its  injuries,  becomes  new, 
spontaneous,  true,  and  original.  Reverie, 
like  the  rain  of  night,  restores  color  and 
force  to  thoughts  which  have  been  blanched 
and  wearied  by  the  heat  of  the  day.  With 
gentle,  fertilizing  power,  it  awakens  in  us  a 
thousand  sleeping  germs,  and,  as  though  in 
play,  gathers  round  us  materials  for  the  fu- 
ture, and  images  for  the  use  of  talent. 
Reverie  is  th(  Sunday  of  thought;  and  who 
knows    which   is  the    more   important  and 

106 


fruitful  for  man,  the  laborious  tension  of 
the  week,  or  the  life-giving  repose  of  the 
Sabbath?  The fldnerie,  ><>  exquisitely  glo- 
rified and  sung  by  Topffler,  is  not  only  deli- 
cious, but  useful,  it  is  like  a  bath  which 
gives  vigor  and  suppleness  to  the  whole 
being,  to  the  mind  as  to  the  body  ;  it  is  the 
sign  and  festival  of  liberty,  a  joyous  and 
wholesome  bouquet,  the  bouquet  of  the  but- 
terfly wandering  from  flower  to  flower  over 
the  hills  and  in  the  Held-.  And  remember, 
the  soul,  too,  is  a  butterfly. 

Translated  by  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward. 


107 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  LABOR- 

1HAVE  faith  in  Labor,  and  I  sec  the  good- 
ness of  God  in  placing  us  in  ;i  world 
where  labor  alone  can  keep  us  alive.  I 
would  not  change,  if  I  could,  our  subjection 
to  physical  laws,  our  exposure  to  hunger 
and  cold,  and  the  necessity  of  constant  con- 
flicts with  the  material  world.  I  would 
not.  it*  I  could,  so  temper  the  elements,  that 
they  should  infuse  into  us  only  grateful  sen- 
sations, that  they  should  make  vegetation 
so  exuberant  as  to  anticipate  every  want, 
and  the  minerals  so  ductile  as  to  oiler  no 
resistance  to  our  strength  and  skill.  Such 
a  world  would  make  a  contemptible  race. 
Man  owes  his  growth,  his  energy,  chiefly 
to  that  striving  of  the  will,  that  conflict 
with  difficulty,  which  we  call  effort.  Easy, 
pleasant  work  does  not  make  robusl  minds, 
dor-  not  give  men  a  consciousness  of  their 
powers,  doc-  not  train  them  to  endurance, 
to  pel's  verance.  to  steady  force  of  will,  that 
force  without  which  all  other  acquisitions 
avail  nothing.  .Manual  labor  is  a  school  in 
which  men  are  placed  to  -jet  energy  of  pur- 
p  ise  and  character,  n  vastly  more  important 

in. 


endowment  than  all  the  Learning  of  all 
other  .-rh  ,ols.  They  are  placed,  indeed,  un- 
der hard  masters,  physical  sufferings  and 
wants,  tin'  power  of  fearful  elements,  ami 
th^  vicissitudes  of  all  human  things  :  but 
these  -teni  teachers  do  a  work  which  no 
compassionate,  indulgent  friend  could  do 
for  us  :  and  true  wisdom  will  bless  Provi- 
dence for  their  sharp  ministry.  1  have  great 
faith  in  hard  work.  The  material  world 
does  much  for  tip'  mind  by  its  beauty  and 
order  :  hut  it  does  more  for  our  minds  by  the 
pains  d  inflicts  ;  >>\-  it<  obstinate  resistance, 
which  nothing  hut  patient  toil  can  over- 
come :  by  its  vast  forces,  which  nothing  hut 
unremitting  skill  and  effort  can  turn  to  our 
use;  by  it-  perils,  which  demand  continual 
vigilance  ;  and  by  its  tendencies  to  decay. 
I  believe  thai  difficulties  are  more  importanl 
to  the  human  mind  than  what  we  call  as 
sistances.  Work  we  all  must,  if  we  mean 
to  bring  out  and  perfeel  our  nature  Even 
if  we  do  not  work  with  the  hands,  we  musl 
undergo  equivalent  toil  in  some  other  direc- 
tion. No  business  or  Btudy  which  does  nol 
■nt  obstacles,  task  ing  to  the  full  t  he  in- 
tellect and  t  he  will,  i-  wort  liy  of  ;i  man. 

William   Elleio   Channino. 


A    PRAYER. 

OLORD,  we  thank  Thee  for  Thyself, 
Father  and  Mother  to  the  little  child 
and  the  man  full  grown.  We  thank  Thee 
that  Thou  lovesl  Thy  savage  and  Thy  civil- 
ized, and  puttesl  the  arms  of  motherly  kind- 
ness about  Thy  saint,  and  round  Thy  sin- 
ner, too.  O  Thou  who  art  Infinite  in  power 
and  in  wisdom,  we  bless  Thee  that  we  are 
sure  not  less  of  Thine  infinite  justice  and 
Thy  perfect  love.  Yea,  we  thank  Thee  that 
out  of  these  perfections  Thou  hast  made  alike 
the  world  of  matter  and  of  man,  providing 
a  glorious  destination  for  every  living  thing 
which  Thou  broughtest  forth. 

We  remember  before  Thee  our  daily  lives, 
and  we  pray  Thee  thai  in  us  there  may  be 
such  knowledge  of  Thy  true  perfection,  such 
a  feeling  of  our  nature's  nobleness,  that  we 
shall  love  Thee  with  all  our  understanding, 
with  all  our  heir!  and  soul.  We  remember 
the  various  toils  Thou  givest  us,  the  joys  we 
rejoice  in,  the  sins  we  have  often  committed, 
and  we  pray  Thee  that  there  may  he  such 
Strength  of  piety  within  us,  that  il  shall 
bring  all  our  powers  to  serve  Thee  in  a  per- 

110 


feci  concord  of  harmonious  life.  In  youth 
may  no  sins  of  passion  destroy  or  disturb 
the  soul,  but  may  we  use  our  members  for 
their  most  noble  work  ;  and  in  manhood's 
more  dangerous  hour,  may  no  ambition  lead 
US  astray  from  the  true  path  of  duty  and  of 
joy.  Wherever  Thou  castest  the  linesof  our 
lots,  there  may  we  serve  Thee  daily  with  a 
life  which  is  a  constant  communion  with 
Thyself.  So  day  by  day  may  we  transfigure 
ourselves  into  nobler  images  of  Thy  spirit, 
walk  ever  in  the  light  of  Thy  countenance, 
and  pass  from  the  glory  of  a  manly  prayer 
io  the  grander  glory  of  a  manly  life,  upright 
before  Thee  ami  downright  before  men,  and 
erveThee  in  the  flesh  till  all  our  days  are 
holy  days,  and  every  work,  acl  and  thought 
becomes  a  sacrament  as  uplifting  as  our 
prayer.  So  may  Thv  kingdom  come,  and 
Thy    will     be    done    on    earth    as    it    is    in 

lea  vni. 

'in  eodork  Park  er. 


m 


\   SIMPI  I     FAITH. 

Tl  I  K  disciples  of  Jesus  knew    llim   only 
as  a  man,  who  had  tramped  with  them 
over  the   hills  of  Galilee,  and    through  its 
villages;  who  had  talked  with  them,  eaten 
with  them,  slept  with  them  :  \\  ho  charmed 
them   by  the    purity  of  His    love    and    the 
simplicity   of  His  faith  ;    who  talked    with 
the    poor  villagers  of  a    higher  and  better 
lit'',    and   of     that      love     which     makes     all 
hearts  one;    who   nursed    their    sick    hack 
to  health  ;  who  gave  Hi-  whole  life  to  doing 
good.    They  knew  Him  as  one  of  t  he  no  hies  t, 
kindest-hearted  of  men.  whom    they   loved 
as  few  men  can  love.      What  did   they  know 
of  theology?    They  simply  knew  that  their 
love   for   that    man  was  so   intense  thai   they 
would    gladly    go  through  the  length    and 
breadth  of  the  land  to  tell  the  world   how 
good  and  true  He  was,  and  how  sweet  and 
beautiful    love    like    His  would    make  this 
world. 

The  world  around  them  was  full  of  suffer- 
ing and  misery.  Hatred,  strife  and  cruelty 
were  on  every  hand.  They  had  learned 
that  love  of  man  for  man  would  set  free  the 

ii.' 


slave  banish  poverty,  and  equalize  the  con- 
ditions of  men.  So.  like  their  Master,  they 
went  forth  to  preach  the  power  of  love  to 
redeem  the  world  from  sin  and  suffering. 
And.  like  Him,  they  gave  their  lives  to 
banish  from  the  hearts  of  men  the  demons 
of  lu~!.  of  greed,  of  selfishness. 

Christianity,  pure  and  simple,  is  that 
religion  of  love  and  good-will  taught  and 
exemplified  by  Jesus  and  His  disciples. 

'1'ln'  Unitarian  Church  stands  for  the  ra 
tional  faith.  Tt  disassociates  it-elf  entirely 
from  the  intricate  theology  and  elaborate 
inonial  constructed  by  the  Church  in 
the  mental  and  spiritual  darkness  of  the 
early  ages,  and.  without  professions  of  any 
kind,  commits  itself  unreservedly  to  this 
religion  of  love  and  good-will  among  men, 

know  ing  that  the  love  of  man  for  man  alone 

ean  make  possible  the  Letter  industrial, 
social,  and  moral  conditions  of  the  future, 
■iily  care  i<  to  bring  into  the  hearts  of 
men  the  spiril  of  truth  and  of  love,  and, 
like  Jesus,  we  leave  tie-  spirit  to  create  its 
own  institutions,  construcl  it-  own  forms, 
and  determine  its  own  met  hod-. 

V.      \.    II    \-K  I    1. 1.. 


]  I.". 


CHRISTMAS    HYMN. 

COME  sing  the  olden  song  once  more! 
The  Christmas  carol  sing  ; 
With  solemn  joy  from  shore  to  shore, 
Lei  earth  her  tributes  bring. 

Though  nigh  two  thousand  years  have  sped, 

The  tale  is  ever  fresh, — 
Of  woman  Worn,  in  humble  shed, 

The  word  of  God  made  flesh. 

With  guiding  star  and   angels'  song 
Heaven  greets  the  waiting  earth, 

And  sages  conic  and  shepherds  throng 
To  view  the  wondrous  birth. 

There  see  fulfilled  those  prophet- dreams, 

That  Hebrew  vision  old  : 
From  Bethlehem's  stall  a  glory  streams 

That  makes  the  future  gold. 

A  golden  future, — health  and    peace 

To  all  beneath  the  sun  ; 
A  time  when  wars  and    wrong-  shall   cease 

And  heaven  and  earth  he  one. 

in 


Be  this,  our  trust,  through  long  delay 
With  no  weak  doubts  defiled, 

And  be  in  all  our  hearts  to-day 
New  born  the  eternal  Child  ! 

F.  II.  Hedgk. 


n  , 


EXPERIENCE. 

1AM   the   truth."     We  cannol    Beparate 
truth  from    human    beings    as  we   can 
when  we  are  dealing  with   things.     In  the 

one  case,  the  truth  is  found  by  experiment; 
in  the  other,  by  experience.  There  is  a  great 
gulf  fixed  between  the  two  forms  of  words 
from  the  same  root.  Experimenl  means 
test,  and  test  involves  a  suspicion  as  to  how 
the  result  will  turn  out.  Experience  means 
a  knowledge  of  humanity,  gained  chiefly  by 
a  knowledge  of  ourselves.  It  comes  by  as- 
suming something  -that  is  beyond  experi- 
ment, that  flees  all  attempt  at  test  or  dis- 
covery.  The  truth  of  human  beings  is  the 
beings  themselves,  and  experience  brings 
out  the  truth.  When  .lesus  says  :  "  I  am 
the  truth."  He  did  not  mean  that  lie  had 
made  a  discovery— that  He  had  found  some- 
thing by  experiment, —  but  that  lie  had 
experienced  the  life  of  (iod  in  His  own  soul, 
not  by  trying  it  to  see  if  it  would  work,  bul 
by  trusting  the  eternal  things  of  His  own 
being,  and  trusting  (iod,  completely.  Ex- 
perience comes  of  faith..  Experiment  comes 

of  want  of  faith.     All   high  and  pure  human 
llii 


relations  scorn  experiment.  Think  of  a 
man  experimenting  with  his  family  !  Think 
of  Jesus  experimenting  with  God  to  find 
the  truth  of  His  own  sou]  !  The  idea  that 
the  methods  of  the  laboratory  are  to  be  ap- 
plied to  human  nature  and  to  God  is  wry 
captivating  to  some  minds,  hut  it  is  very 
misleading,  and  it  ends  in  turning  society 
into  a  well-managed  dove-cote,  or  a  farm 
for  gazelle-eyed  cattle  and  sleek  racers, 
where  man.  as  a  well-bred,  scientifically 
cultured  animal,  would  till  the  world  with 
the  excellency  <>f  his  power,  and  take  a  short 
•  •tit  to  the  kingdom  of  God!  Not  so  does 
man  become  the  truth — notsodoes  he  live 
on  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  '  rod. 

(experience  !  Man's  thought,  hope,  feel- 
joy  and  pain  distilled  through  the 
sands  of  God's  wisdom.  Experience!  in- 
definable substance,  mysterious  thing,  ex- 
tract of  existence,  compound  of  earth  and 
heaven.  Experience!  knowledge  of  hu- 
manity, won  from  our  own  hearts  in  their 
relation  with  our  fellow-men  and  with  God. 
Experience  !  costly  jewel,  precious  treasure: 
the  Eternal  Beauty  reflected  in  the  soul! 

I  Ion  ATM)  Stkbhins. 


THE  GOOD  SATAN, 

SATAN  and  the  Devil,  as  originally  con- 
ceived, are  different  beings.  The  Devil 
is  the  prince  of  Evil, — Evil  is  his  good. 
Satan  is  the  genius  of  trial,  the  attorney- 
general  of  tlic  world.  His  office  is  not  to 
harm  men, but  to  test  them  and  provethem. 
In  the  book  of  Job  he  comes  among  the 
si>ns  of  God,  and  rightly,  for  he  is  one  of 
them  :  he  is  in  a  service  of  the  Lord's  ap- 
pointing.  Good  Satan,  heavenly  Satan,  we 
may  call  him. 

We  may  suppose  the  conception  of  him  to 
have  arisen  from  experience  of  that  principle 
in  the  nature  of  things  by  which  we  are  con- 
stantly being  tested.  We  complain  of  this, 
but  wherefore?  We  ourselves  test  our  ships, 
bridges,  cannon,  muskets,  —  playing  the 
very  Satan  to  them  ;  and  to  analogous  end 
why  should  not  we  lie  tested  ?  and  why  not 
think  kindly  of  the  Satan  that  tests  US? 
What  shall  prevent  the  weakling's  being 
assigned  the  tasks  of  strength  ?  Why,  sim- 
ply the  tests  that  prove  him  to  he  a  weak- 
ling. How  shall  the  strong  know  thiii- 
plaee  and  the  great  tasks  they  are  fitted  for? 

lis 


Simply  through  the  tests  that  prove  their 
strength.  In  either  case  the  rude-handed 
but  wise  and  well-meaning  Satan  is  entitled 
not  to  our  reproaches,  but  our  gratitude. 

.lu-t  self-estimates  are  very  important. 
Why  do  I  not  give  up  and  say  1  am  good 
for  nothing  ?  Because  in  ten  thousand  tests 
I  have  learned  better.  Why  do  \  not  arro- 
gate to  myself  all  moral  qualities  at  the 
highest, — Paul's  faith  and  Cromwell's  forti- 
tude ?  Because  Satan,  through  long  and 
severe  tuition,  has  taught  me  the  contrary. 

To  the  discipline  of  character  the  tests 
have  value  not  to  be  overstated.  Have  I 
some  strong  appetite  or  unruly  passion? 
Do  I  love  money  too  well  or  pleasure  too 
much  ?  There  is  my  weak  place.  Satan's 
ass  tults  admonish  meto  brace  up  this  weak 
spot,  and  so  prepare  for  the  inevitable  and 
otherwise  perilous  extremity. 

So,  by  endless  illustration,  it  may  be 
shown  that  Satan  is  our  friend.  The  tests 
We  COUld    not    Lr<'t  on  without   ;    and.  had    we 

clearer  knowledge,  we  Bhould,  no  doubt,  see 

that  the  way  to  heaven   is  over  tie'  hilly  and 

laborious  turnpike  of  Satan's  preparing. 

\ .   W.  Jackson. 


II!) 


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